this static
is the grey-horrid
that makes
mash of minds,
lint for flint.
a muse out of
commission,
rehab/probation,
one forgets
what she’s off of now.
I want to spew genius!
but all I bring up
is other people’s corn.
this static
is the grey-horrid
that makes
mash of minds,
lint for flint.
a muse out of
commission,
rehab/probation,
one forgets
what she’s off of now.
I want to spew genius!
but all I bring up
is other people’s corn.