Paycheck.

My musical instruments
Blue topping ice creams
Matured conventional prologue
I see it barely now
How the postmen waited for the dove
How my natural insinuations
Folded before your zeal
X marked before and after
Afternoons planked a gaze
It's own milieu
Epiphanies phoned me
My hibiscus desk full of
Streamed lies
Lord's own megaphone
Metaphors everywhere
I swam under it
My musical instruments
I see it barely now
Lord's own paycheck.