Crooked

crooked oh crooked sleeves wipe this snot from me hands drip with blood quick sand turns to mud stuck here in a trance of time lesson of learn caught by mine an other time song and dance sweetest of chance naked we dine heart stung lines bee keeper dreams sweep sweep sweep souls from feets pamper me crooked ?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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Fleming Avatar
September 27, 2017 at 11:09 AM
Totally intrigued by this reoccurring shape your poems frequently sport...reminds me of a butt-plug -- fascinating! As indeed is your extraordinarily convoluted and puzzling poetry -- makes for compulsive viewing! My very best regards, Tim - Cheers! :) john
Stars Avatar
September 27, 2017 at 11:18 AM
not sure where the "Tim" comes from ... obvious confusion ... or i would assume ... "Tim" is not my name ... really makes him mad ... your use of the "Tim" thing has a piss tall whip feel ... it is very disturbing to us ... me more especially me ... "butt plug"ger ... indeed ... my mind can be mimes to an extent ... please never come to this box again with that "Tim" reference ... ever ... thanks for the "plug" ... mister ...
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