seems so unfair in the eyes of every amputee,
this condition:
the habitual loathing of dawn,
like an daytime-insomniac-owl,
comes delivered to bitter, open
palms.
The yoga classes have ceased. Exercise yo mind! Delve deep into the mind of the suburban beatnick, stare into the "winter of our discontent", and find out exactly why Tony is a Writer...
1 comment:
lovely.
i really like your work.
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