States of Poetry NSW
her temper tanty's sus but your mites say sassy
's entering the pleather dome lookin'
poised w/ noose & savvy much obliged to
glorify her cunning firm & tout
its nous for oblivion
where the pert velvet diva never lets you rest
your glass head in which infinite
pools rotating w/ lust
voice toots from the comments field
dissing your angel
daze of body & soul come to a / won’t come to an
end on this / the last night of dearth
brows
