Here comes the Bride.
Open wide. See what’s inside. This heart: A shambles Branches, brambles, Awkward triumphs, Dirty pin-ups, Fallen fashions, Focal factions, Decadent dwellers, Decent fellers, Horrendously handsome, Held for ransom. File under forgotten, Bruised and rotten In an old paper bag With gasoline rags. Mind your manners Young party planners. Find your footing. Get busy do-gooding. My moral dilemmas: Just lazy diplomas, Black hematomas, And aubergine bruises. Likely excuses, When you’ve been accused Of wanton regret Like you’ve never met, But still try to sell. They’ll see you in Hell. Bring your own booze And just ring the bell. 10/20/20
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February 2025
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