My 1st Constanza This is not a poem as such... I'm writing these lines off the cuff and tipsy off the stronger stuff. I simply can't be bothered much when my head is heavy and tired... when I'm so bloody uninspired... As my fingers firm table clutch, I realize I might collapse; my concentration's long… Continue reading Under control, or: Under advisement
A cheap whiskey for mixing Rinses the mind out after Rubbing all ten digits raw Ev'ry finger tip pulsing Against an inclined keyboard Keys shadow'd by a darkness But new channels have been hew'd Flowing liquid won't settle Above the eyes as it should Won't submerge all kindly in The night's consuming shadows Rounded keys… Continue reading or: Tired
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