Roughly as poetic as a bag of smashed arseholes.







Scribble back.


Sunday, 12 December 2010

2. Scribble

I don't know what to think or do or eat or drink,
I am lost in a wasteland of my own creation and repression,
Hunted by spectres and pictures
Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)