Bitter cud dripping wetness
alone in saliva jaw, a moo perhaps,
maybe even a sawed off shotty
on display in a window.
Slipped out
and onto the grass, a black clod
of shine and slurp, ‘oh my I’ve fallen again’, you place thought into matter,
and the dogs are left to sniff and lick and decide upon which
part of the main, (a slight difference in scope) to drive witches from glory and
find weird shit to eat and
pass the time.
alone in saliva jaw, a moo perhaps,
maybe even a sawed off shotty
on display in a window.
Slipped out
and onto the grass, a black clod
of shine and slurp, ‘oh my I’ve fallen again’, you place thought into matter,
and the dogs are left to sniff and lick and decide upon which
part of the main, (a slight difference in scope) to drive witches from glory and
find weird shit to eat and
pass the time.
