Polymid

A weekly poetry blog describing mostly Sundays. Written by James M. Frost

Showing posts with label is shit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label is shit. Show all posts

03 September 2012

Half-Closed Eyes

Half-closed eyes
with more than one wrinkle under each
the skin is turning paler by the minute
a minute difference though, only noticeable when looking at old photographs
The many hours spent lucid in the dark side of the earth have taken their toll
But I know of pills that take care of that.
Posted by James M. Frost at 01:05 No comments:
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Labels: art, don't, fuck, I, is shit, know, poetry, this, you
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