Evening Stroll
It’s a tough place to be
Poetry
Such a Tincture
Fill my blood with Belladonna and Hearts ease–until there / is nothing left of you. May it slip into my bones as I lay
Dear Poet
Warm regards,
The Grass is Half Full
enjoying the result of your efforts.
Noon
i don’t think it’s all fences, / one says.
Cocksplatt1's Monologue
Creator give. Eat, bow. Live, life. Life gah. Creator drown bow neighbour, bow deesh.
Shakespeare’s Cumslut 🥵😏
To 🅱️ or not to 🅱️