2010/01/15
These
Who do these recall with their swains and fox? Life's short and its pungent
fuse burns. Then crawls a baked dog to its bed. Body arms legs and the rest
hounded out pounded up cruel gruel for the end game.
What fictions travel troubles this air?
Your punishment's a real illusion pain that's cut the gate and hammered
a door (let philosophers eulogize) . Not a close call but call . Would do if it's not too good,
too bad so fiction yourself its air of abuse. Not the final sinking thing which
stinks of its alibi and pressed . The ignorant frozen ones scream . Their gully
a pisspot of hope the shits
By
Clifford Duffy