Monday, 29 August 2011

Poetry is the worst cocktail dress ...

Where the asphalt is bitten away
An endless assault. ..
Unflinching
Flinching
The corners of my mouth
Begin to move; the laughter starts;
The eyes open wider and the light
Begins to wash across my lap...


in secret,
I suppose dress for occasion
It looks dreadful on me!


Start Again...



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