August feels right: days warm,
sun on my back -
but this morning I found
in the tall grass, their thin
stems and hoods of paper,
grey, fragile like Degas
tutus, as a...
If I flicked my last penny into a wishing well
Made a wish for a good man to walk my way
He would smile at me with morphine lips
That could kiss sweet addiction into my hips
His hands would...
I can stand outside with the best of them
Pissing alongside our weed eating devises
Pissing on the green we hate so much we
Power it down
like urinating brown chunky
Mowing Diaries - delicate care
My Buddy Hollyby
My Burning Rageby
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