Phrembah (a potato-like mystery) (phrembah) wrote,
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)

I wouldn't settle in jes' yet if I's you . . .

The hat shit* lady’s barely gittin’ warmed up.
She’ll be swingin’ by presently (as it were)
To ceremoniously relieve you of your livelihood.

*(Colloquial: “hatchet.”  She’s got one o’ them treadle wheel whetstones in her office and she sits in there charpening ‘er axe all day. We’re like a yard full of Thanksgiving Turkey’s just a waitin’ t’be “harvested.”

. . .

No, that sounded like a wet stomp. I think he’s gone.

. . .
I only want to think about you
And dream about you
And talk about you
And talk to you
You make the whole rest of the world mundane
You’ve turned it all to sludge . . .
You outshine the rest of this crud like hurts my eyes, goddammit!
Tags: brain fart, broken pencil poetry, compelling chronicle
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