deepundergroundpoetry.com
Strangely Isolated
He liked his fingers
they were clean,
Unlike his wife who was dirty,
A ember in the red.
The toothbrush
was stained with plaque,
the needle returned
to the start of the track.
The Crone bit his ear
nibbled his finger
and chumped on his nose.
why...only God knows!
they were clean,
Unlike his wife who was dirty,
A ember in the red.
The toothbrush
was stained with plaque,
the needle returned
to the start of the track.
The Crone bit his ear
nibbled his finger
and chumped on his nose.
why...only God knows!
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