Battle Scars
I walk with an emotional limpBattle-scarred soul with shrapnel dug deepHealing isn’t always clean I have to decide which limbs I want
Rambling
Stones
The chains embedded, screwed through flesh into boneBolted to limbs, deep in the marrow, each riveted to its own stone The friction
Fertile
How fertile is your fieldmeans little to the bullyou keep feeding him, taking shithe makes sure the field is full the cows
Changes in the air
In the air, petrichor an ancient scent I’ve smelled before brings in memories of downpours past quenching the desert that drinks deep
More fun!
Facebook is getting cuntier with it’s community guidelines and selective Fucking, so I’ll be posting here more!