“And in the beginning, life, like shattered shells splintering the solitude of a slumbering tounge, it slit, spilt and fertilized nebulous dreams. And just like that and oh so suddenly, with the wind against my teeth I was born. Slapped, belligerent and bear chested Heart raged & reclined against varnished rubber ribs, clinging to the…
What Crones Up Crows Drown
And though his bones they have bled into oat, ash & dust, his stories, quite blahsensical, they shall ever never rust. Whilst parliamentary principles perabulated in his head, he laid upon his pillow, solving problematic proverbs in his bed. Swashbuckling tales wrapped in a small trim blue skirt as she holds a ‘drink me’ bottle beginning…
We All Yearn For Something
The human experience
A benign gallery of humanity
Pried from gripping flesh
This sculpted sand will not remain.