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Aug 2014
They sell all kinds of spices where
she's from.
Humiliated.
Embarrassment
polymerizes
a sludgy squid
body of mine,
thrashing in a salt water soaked,
choked,
electric chair.
I haven't ever resorted
to paving a silk idea
with shark printed
carpet since the ancients.

A tombstone fridge.

I knew it was that gypsy
on your shoulder
talking on the telephone.
Gun street girl,
riding rusty
in a cyclone.
Cologne
scented gherkins,
flirting,
while her man is slurping jerky.

I'm a turtle who lives in the desert
because he hates the English language.
No lies, we need no more
Written by
Cameron Haste  Canada
(Canada)   
903
   Harley Oliver and AJ
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