I decided that my holiday spirit was just too joyous to generate my usual fair of depressing poetry, so today I wrote something humorous. Merry Christmas, and may your New Year be blessed by the dreams you fashioned in years past.
Thanks for your interest and enjoy the holidays.
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Gothic Yawp
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depressing poetry. struggle of smoke to be annihilated in the yellow haze of a ruptured dawn. frown down to sluggish toils. where boils make noises that hoist coitus toward a masochist's syntax. loop to the bandaid where aids patients comfort napalm and impregnate athletic armpits. the relic will be introjected into a new malaise. the struggle of smoke. be bid on by Bono's crotch.
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