deepundergroundpoetry.com
It was a trial.An Essai.
I just re-discovered this.It's so bizarre.I forget my thought process on this.It's clearly inspired by a girl me thinks.
***
He had herpes of the imagination.Gonnorhoea of ambition.
They made love through their tongues and assembled writing pieces.
She tapped on that gizmo with such passion,such fury such exhiliration.
How bizarre.How odd she did not feel the quiver of his quandry
as he bombarded quiet spaces with his amazement to all and sundry.
It was a trial.An Essai.It was an autobiographical Montaigne personally.
***
He had herpes of the imagination.Gonnorhoea of ambition.
They made love through their tongues and assembled writing pieces.
She tapped on that gizmo with such passion,such fury such exhiliration.
How bizarre.How odd she did not feel the quiver of his quandry
as he bombarded quiet spaces with his amazement to all and sundry.
It was a trial.An Essai.It was an autobiographical Montaigne personally.
Published 24th Apr 2012
| Edited 15th Jan 2013
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