Grips

Something broke the grip
Somone spoke a spell
Was cast in silver whispers
Shadows past walk through backwards walls
Evening falls with muted numb games
Anaesthetic scribes frozen novacaine veins
Dreams of cross/reference 2/way screens
See the joke and slip
Something broke/the grip




Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 572 times
Written on 2016-11-03 at 02:37

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