Mundane-Midnight Murders Of The Rue Morgue-isborg city blues...Mayhaps me skin toned and skid marked Underoos.
What do we lose? ...Bandanna Republican Central.
Where life greets us with a fry pan, that is smacked straight to my face.
Blood smeared sweat smells drippingly stagnated, by sweet Old Spice swells.
Vlassic Classic dill speared Chills on Ice with my Buds who aren't even the Wiser.
Reading trail goad good as rain at the library of pained in my asset, and of course-i-cuss...Fleet pourous droplets imploded, at last and flattened tummy tucks, lined markers of this tell tale heartless ones that are broken as unspoken, in silence of the unushered heart throbbinin' thread bare naked whispering lambs.
Woolen mitteny littany geeks, that aren't religiously wholey moley...Hockey goalies wear their ski mask's that hide their shameless indignition of defeated man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem