Not a 6 inch increment
If I were to self-isolate
I’d make sure I drip from the right orifice
I’d say, leave the muck
We’ve time to fuck
About in our dirty truck
Followed by a bath filled with rose petals
A comforter spread misted with lavender increments
The black hare
He doesn’t care
He is merely human
She won’t know what to think
She had too many Guardian Angels
He is a constant thorn
She will disapropiate
Brother, Eish let me make you another tea and I may share a few yarns with you
Paint the roses any hue- the town is full of red-faced
men who do nothing to tame your mews
Some of us have got to say
About something. Kay?
Cos last time I checked Its OKAY to talk, spew, let it all out
Shake your tosser hand
Make sure of that clout you received last night.
I wasn’t there
I don’t care
What the fuck is a silent night
When your body is a constant ablaze to inner trappings of your, inner might
What a sight.
A mind is cleansed by a prayer to shovel it to under nature’soils with a -blackie -the dead knight
He’s no talisman
He was a pet rabbit, not the shaded son’s garden boy.
That is a story where both lived to know what it feels to catch ha fright.
It didn’t start with a waterproof plastering over a burial ground….
It’s my curfew
Self isolate, lick my tail and tell myself self soothing mew mews
(Curfew words) too tired to correct
My simple pleasure is well over due.
Posted on Mar 26, 2020, in POETRY and tagged Creative Writing, Creativity, Emotions, Life, Relationships, Stream of consciousness. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
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