- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Murder Ballads
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Click hereIt was never my business but you told me. I did not listen. Now I wish I had just out of boredom. Everything is under analysis. Dickstruck or sick with want. Neither is pretty. My fifteen minutes of fame rests awkward in your lap. The cards say that when the sliver of moon reveals itself in May you will return. Soon is the time for chaos. Repentance. Judgment or scorch and burn.
- COMMENTS
susansnowover 7 years agoAuthorNibbles at the toes and from the base. Keeping us all in our fucking place.
Anonymousover 7 years agoThe whisp of a hair the dimness sets in my body wont move .its cold here . I can smell of pine the taste of dirt i am alive .in a coffen the worms last bite good night.
Cleardaynowalmost 10 years agoThere is a more coherent thread to this. Enough to carry me as a reader through it.
Still plenty of madness - I am not suggesting you should convert to complete lucidity - perish the thought. My God, there is even a rhyme in it - or was that pure fluke. Seriously - nice one.
