March Poem 3

I do have deadly fumes in the air. The skills learned they can’t smell touch. If nothing, just appear as a special. The world of the senses of taste tripping over small items.

But to describe to them a person of taste regardless of degree. That the employers are bumping into walls as an expert. The smell of an English degree as a holder of poisoned food. And his or you are not at the fact.

Yadda, yadda, yadda… blah, blah, blah for you dangerous chemicals. That can make you marketable for disadvantage.

Are you available as soon as the how loses?

March Poem 2: The Slug

She moves through the world on the strength of her vagina
Sliding on its muscles like a slug
Leaving a trail of mucus everywhere she goes.

March Poem 1

Pulled of the buttered toast, we secretly began odd loading of point on delta trips.
It may seem like a big bream releasing weekend.
Factors still may knock over lamps to drop by home.
Two or a few of native plants go to a nature.
I’ve not had the power to break the rivers that have been tagged.