standing wet
shivering
catching
a cold
outside the graveyard
silence of her trembling door
like little baby waves kissing
the hem of her receeding sea shore
she who once called me a journaler
now is blog spotted through her back door
two comments from this indian labradors
he wants nothing to do with me furthermore
an american blog goddess my multicolored
fuckwit heart wont ignore
to old times she who can make me
or break me wont restore
enslaved to a sly moment we did not explore
poetic pestilence pictorial parody my paramour
