Månad: mars 2016

Is there any poetry in chewing ones nails? Or the dead flesh out of the corners of the nails? Whilst I munch the extra skin Spit its excess Profound thoughts brew on my head Is there any charm on the detail As one scratches To feel the edges of unwantedness With the pulgar Or the…

As the minutes moved on offset by the seconds I sat still in a catatonic state like In my green IKEA chair Listening how the outside stairs augmented the voice of a child no more than 3 Talking with its voice box some jibberish Unable to regulate it Obviously under the influence Of an echo…