Poetry

Boots in air 
an elite brain hangs out 
from the tall tears. 
 
It does not search an exit. 
Time moves out 
with a murder in eyes. 
 
Leading a spartan life 
in a lair, in tune 
with absolutely zilch. 
 
A sexy mouth mimes 
for a glittering tree. 
Parakeets were coming in swarms. 
 
Can you believe, he was 
in a hit list 
of a gliding moon?