snow
on a morning
in Southern California
the description
didn't make sense to
the realtor either
"selling houses
is simple"
he said
to the lamp post
I was leaning my forehead
on
he should have
said that to
the rotting floors
and the ceiling
that still smelled
of blood
and baby
vomit
~
Just a little something to keep things updated. My 365 has been going on and off. Purging and binging with ink-stained fingers halfway down my throat. I guess my goal is more to have 365 poems by the end of the year rather than actually writing a poem every single day.
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