How Lonely You Must Be In Your Worlds
Imagine a line i wrote and as you
read it you realise your reading
it in your...
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A bove what is a bove
There St
where in
times begone alley
you stop to catch your
Breadth-some length
of breath that taken in
scrapes and scrats
rips and scrawls
with taloned zombie rats
ribcages like straps
flesh hanging like a remark
maggots feasting on brain stalks
night time beach walks-i threw that in for a laugh
Seagulls mine mine squawks
where moon l??ks on and gawps
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