~
esoteric chaffinches ( some shit by me for all yous out theres )
…
yes sunday is the curate's egg
the synergy of gathered time
it's energy - our shattered heads
the weathering of battered rhymes
its gravy flowing through our veins
those crumbles in our custard creams
a gentle tap upon our brains
et déjà vu within our dreams
it's esoteric chaffinches
& pretty maids all in a row
all puzzled polecat - laughing fish
& television comatosed
it's drunken uncles stuck up trees
long strolls along the edge's span
tis one for you - fifteen for me
it's babychamed diazepamed
...
“those crumbles in our custard creams”
Well that’s the best line I’ll read today. Sounds fucking great + it’s unique.
Good stuff. I think it literally warrants a follow.
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nice 1 Harry, cheers m8
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