1/12/18 2:01am
What the fuck is there to do
On a warm day in January
There are no birds
The grass is all mire
Compounding storms leave scumfuck dunes on the street
And we revel
In beautiful weather
Eyes of the storm in 12 hour spurts
I can drink
And smoke until oblivion
Blood sweat and tears through speakers and eye sockets
Then only hours later there is everything to do
Multiple units at rest suddenly alerted
Vermintide comes in a creeping fog
Dormice flighting and breaking paradise
At least when the world seems British
Dirtshit scumfuck snowdunes extinguish
For lake effect sound deadening licorice
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Author:
Big Swifty (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 12th, 2018 14:58
- Comment from author about the poem: 18+ because cursing got the best of this one
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments1
Great imagery, I think the swearing makes it.
Now I know what to call those "scumfuck dunes" Thank you.
Appreciate it my man
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