my mouth is a vicious circle…
a rebounding, wounded dictator
witch
hindsight ought
before sight
so my I’s aren’t sorry
so my brows don’t cede
so my knows isn’t
Pen-occhio—
so my chin needn’t climb
so my bones shouldn’t pronounce
so my cheek isn’t read
long
so my leisure time pre-vents penance
but write…
Comments are closed.