Poetry

Saturday, 29 August 2026

From ear on ear

 I've gone stone deaf

My ear is cold meth

A frozen breath

On a winter morning

I'm a little late borning

The lambs hate fawning

It's a little trait warning

In a sky of blue

Coinciding with my new smoking

It's a box to put a joke in

And forget about until it

Surprises you later

Give it up now

Have you gone deaf to 

Your own common sense?

Inner voice

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