"gourged" poems
I rose one mourning
too the sounds
of flailing waters
on the edge
of the water gourged well
Where it declined
down into the Bally's
where no love
sake for money grows
The skies has no laments
The earth no true girt
The rocks pebble down
into Pisces of thoughts
For even they
turn to dust
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 4:38 AM UTC