/I was so high when I wrote this a year ago. This was not even passable as a poem due to the drunk fingers that typed it but I just wanted to post it for laughs./

Drown in my kiss the same way this fork-pierced fish-meat enjoys jacuzzi in a saucer: of succulent red sauce, lime, and sautéed shrimp-paste spice.

You see, I'm building my body 'succulently' so my arms would replace that stubborn stone-pillow you adjust each night to the point of naming a song for which I'll hear in paradise.

Remember when you sang "Love Story" under the green University gym garden shed and collected more competitions for me? Call me crazy but I can't stand the crowd like Cain.

And they sang and sang and I'm here in this 노래 sinking on soju spirits of green bottles; as if I'm back on that green shed of geraniums, and your fans wanted to fuck you again.

But I'm your number 1 fan.

Until it was just my circle of friends singing Amy Winehouse for my 19th birthday, and they dragged me from Minesview to Megatower- drugs-heavy pockets which we bought from Teacher's Village & consumed beside the Cathedral at midnight.

It was scary yet exhilarating, like making a move on you... And I can't wait to be independent so I can buy us a condominium unit in Greenvalley then every night in the Mountain City with you would be... A sight.