Poetry

[James]

She was a sunflower;
withering.
Anchored to the wall
the only way gravity can’t.
It was a pick up pale pint for the microwave technicians,
serving ‘fine dining’ on a fossil fuelled court;
and a drag race toke break for her.
Vice’s come knocking earlier for these kid’s
they don’t wait for santa
they bury him.
They know the deal
Its a ten thousand piece jigsaw,
without any corners.
Pipes back filled with lead
and ladder’s being strangled by snake’s.
She was punched in, sure
but the allotted breaks was where the
unaired documentary drama
‘Seed’s falling from her face’
made its pilot debut.

Discussion

[Eliza]

Damnnnn. n! James…had to stop in at a diner and have mimosa to fully take this in. What poets are lurking here!

[James]

Oh you are ever so kind Eliza! Glad it resonated!

[Author]

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