November 2011
1 post
A Pouring of Words
Stimulant bees crashing against a caffeine screen between my ear lobes, my left and right lobes. A loaned stoned I must pay back in stacks of waxed cotton. The fruit and bread’s gone rotten, flower’s polle fallen. The cheese is stale and like the mail, it’s all junk, hunks of funk and dunk. Fiberglass butts on fire, pires of harsh smokes and tokes poke fun at lungs, tons of bums...