10

My dry mouth

Longs to be quenched.

To unstick the sticking 

In my fleshed mouth.

.

A pungent fruit would do me good.

An off-orange orb of natural extract;

Tarted juice of sugar so pure.

.

I can just taste it

Souring my watered tongue.

.

For I could just clench my fist

And liquid sun

Would faucet to my lips,

Running down my neck,

Staining my faded white shirt.

.

For the tears of my brow

Would sweat honey

And the bees would nest upon my hair.

.

I wish to be

The sweet nature

Of everything good.