the floors of my imagination,
purpose with intentions lamenting
sarcaqsm abounds... meek verbs
misinterpreted cloister in the corners
doodling obscenities on the walls,
depravity dwells inside the interior
of the interoir... a quiet little place
reserved exclusively for visitors;
only friends have access to the veins
of my thoughts, even those most
distantly forgotten are the one they
most likely will choose... it goes
without saying, at least without its
pretense, that we are insatiable
when it comes to live entertainment,
dancers who bring their own poles
are most appreciated... we live for
the thrills of reality, booking the
screamers first... as reality does
draw attention to the newpaper's
claim that the fire was an accident.
29 March 2023
No comments:
Post a Comment