President Of A New Reflection – Twisted Prose

fascinate the inner workings of a maniac in style over substance,

pushed inside the ceramic dish not served but over strained,

whiskey drinks,

futile things,

a harboured extension of the flaccid tool we dare not name,

forged alliances that could never be,

hand shakes,

cold embraces,

toxic waste drank without care or quandary,

we owned the shell of something different,

gaze upon me,

see without the eyes you’ve become accustomed to,

vanquished September mornings washed over by December coloured lies…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s