deepundergroundpoetry.com

A Poetess Is Not Without Honor; Save Offline

� Smithing phonetic tonics - vivid �
swollen stanzas glow �
searing - fresh - afire �
& torrid from the forge �
� �
Reeling lyrics off looms �
authentic velvet threads �
organic opus �
of woven gold �
Pricking my soul on this �
spindle �
& letting ink flow �
� �
Dripping hints - hairline trails � �
slick & sweet - � �
this lifeblood �
my bread crumbs �
utterly unfollowed �
by those nursed on skim milk �
with watery arteries � �
� �
Who prefer a diet of smoke � � �
� �
� �
*** �
Truth is...I'm pretty fucking salty, and I carry chips like a rucksack on my shoulders.