I have a drawer I’m afraid to use dust gathers on it, the entire stretch of carpet around it is preserved
The flower in your hair Was a bit worse for wear the petals that remained Looked rather drained. Even the stalk was crushed.
I’ve seen others dumped Cast off and forgotten With sweet rotting I’ve seen them decompose Into sweet liquor as people
tin can heat and toucan crossings mechanics smoking questionables with loud mouthed customers blocki… the route past the non-corner shop rusting solar solutions flat tired…
I am no word-smith I am the anvil Beaten with a hard And heated hammer Scolded by others’
Hand presses hand, Chains of carbon courting Through nuclear repellence, Processing synaptic lightning: synthesised ecstasy flickers wildl…
Listening to the gale blow, I recall the banshee of memory, Spectres of what was haunt my thoughts, And I recall the pain,
How hard is it to write in formal… In sonnet form with proper metre? A few short words written in rever… A rhythm that must not be let pete… And a story, usually of love
Staring out the office window at the office window across a butterfly flit through a small gap in the window immediately regretting the decisio…
Once a week was just right? Greasy, slippery with fat Forever too much but right regardl… And you’d finish me in the morning I was your takeaway.
It’s been said that I’d love a shadow If it smiled at me. I smile and agree: Talking to people
I don’t want to have to say it Online, through text And certainly not phone. I want to swallow my fear, To say my piece,
Beat your chest then Bellow and threaten Gnash your fearsome, Perfect teeth You, brute
Grant me peace! To pester And pester And pester; See how the repetition adds
I spy a wrapper on the floor A small thing, hardly a major chor… And yet, no - it shall remain and cause strife and no small pain… It’s just a wrapper - but who’s?