Category: poetry

  • Fuck! (It’s the weather that does it)

    With fish belly legs and the stench of despair It’s a fresh summer morn as the ghosts fill the square. It’s a summers dress flowing with light summers breeze It’s a wondrous sight, It’s a sight that will please. But a bittersweet moment as trouts bump their gums, They’re convinced that we stare at their… →