Poetry

An image of an image of an image
Of course the waters blow
Silent sighs

Say friend, 
say it’s over man
What then?

What’s left my darling?

What’s slowly weaving, green,
around the inner section of a
violentless dream?

They don’t make em like that anymore
Like the verdant Volvo on Simpson

They don’t make em like that anymore
Like the two thirty diesel 

Please baby it’s not just a Benz
Please I need to send
I need to free my inner man

Woo that’s the bends
When I came up still glistening
Sinister silver still dripping

Ffffff that’s the bends
Mmm that’s intense
When everything is slithering
And the slipping begins

I need a ninety honda
And a bowl full of mids
Verdant as the Volvo
Voyeur still in the midst

core contributor @ Waku / Logos

https://www.metonymic.info/

Oh wow! Beautiful words, thanks for sharing!