Monday 5/08/2023 11:42:00 PM

the gravel whispered her name. the miles painted her skin.

she'd gone too far again.

the wind drew its pictures in her eyes. the world kept shouting.

but she'd long ago stopped listening.

her villains flourished. counselled by conceit.

but her time machine stalled.

and she finally forgot what it was she had built it for. 

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.