Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2016
No vacuum jet engined cleaning appliance can sound like mountain wind drivin through leaf bare trees. Like a a wood peckers nonchalant brain damage or a boiling something in this woods.
The boiling is jabbing my brain like impatient school nun with rulers.
I'm almost there. I almost got it.
Stream of conscious *******
Written by
Jor For  Charleston
Please log in to view and add comments on poems