Jan 2016
The air I'm exhaling is cold
chilled toes and the tip of my nose
bug hypnotist
resting my mind
days at a time
pen tops that whistle
and glide on the page
gold to grey
chilled toes and the tip of my nose
bug hypnotist
resting my mind
days at a time
pen tops that whistle
and glide on the page
gold to grey
randomness and goop put into one, is this even a poem..you decide
