Monday 6th November


I’m shaking,
Black light,
Delicate porcelain cup perched on the edge of a table,

Too many nuts,
Not enough fruit,
Too much information,
Strange deliveries,
Blue flowers dancing,

Tiny woman walks in with cruel eyes,
Dressed as a raven,
Black on Black,
She repeats,
“That’s what’s so sad to me”
Then laughs,
Like cracking rust,
Hunched like her life is poison


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.