Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
‘You’ll make it worse’ she said. But now her eyes were fixed to Matt Damon’s **** hands full of Malteser mess. My chubby digits do my walking a finger-tip rub round the rim takes the itch away. I must have got bitten round her mate Skanky Tina’s. More hoover – less cat. X STA CY Now I’ve caught the edge. pull back the scab and in the popcorn bag. Blood. Oh my God, blood. It starts to well, then trickle down my leg toward the sofa. If I can balance right kitchen towel just too far wait, the pizza plate. Perfect. Tissue soaked in tomato grease fits the bill just right. ‘What the Hell are you up to?’
0
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:28 AM UTC
You'll make it worse
‘You’ll make it worse’ she said. But now her eyes were fixed to Matt Damon’s **** hands full of Malteser mess. My chubby digits do my walking a finger-tip rub round the rim takes the itch away. I must have got bitten round her mate Skanky Tina’s. More hoover – less cat. X STA CY Now I’ve caught the edge. pull back the scab and in the popcorn bag. Blood. Oh my God, blood. It starts to well, then trickle down my leg toward the sofa. If I can balance right kitchen towel just too far wait, the pizza plate. Perfect. Tissue soaked in tomato grease fits the bill just right. ‘What the Hell are you up to?’
Written by
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:28 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem