Free verse № 73627
God bless your stool plop
And how it makes love to my forked toaster.
All wrapped up in Kmart blue light spread sheets.
One day soon, I too, will wrap you up to swell
In a Radio Head tribute to palm reading sychophants
I'll spackle your dull face to my unpeelable wallpaper
To play a round of darts on and in your ass plan.
Dunce fucking punk rock tamponicide.
You have wings bitch, so do glide.
Into the side of a moon walking puffin.
Away from what made me forget your fluffy #.
11 comments
In all your personalities you show a gift for fresh perspective - and that comes easily to you.
But this putting it into a readable form thing; harder, eh?
- when you find that the poem just drops out of you, instead of just posting the shit - how about spending a little time to form it into something presentable?
Maybe then you won't need nine avatars to carry things to the screen.
The shock of the stink only carries you so far (or I've just gotten used to it).
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