It’s Time…

There comes a point when the pale windowsill by your bed, no longer remains contained within your small room. There comes a point when you find the moon is shining brighter than it usually does and you find yourselves love-sick again. The cold wind slaps you across your face but you find it refreshing. You’re […]

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Home

Another slam poem….interestingly, this one turns out to be on mother too!

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The Tune

Who is it? She asked and he slammed her head on the metal plate. He still kept whispering the tune…

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