(Untitled)

[oysternaut]

He smoked to make the poetry flow again
like butter, he imagined it
but then he forgot about how it would feel
to create
and his shoulder blades would itch
like a memory

oh, unused anatomy!
how will you ever evolve in time
to blend in with all the beautiful beasts?

Comments

[negative__s]

THIS IS THE POEM I HAVE BEEN MEANING TO WRITE. our souls are good friends charles.