Posted by sdoubinsky on 7 April 2008
What I remember
are images
The words are gone
and live a life of their own
They never call me nor write
but the images
are still with me
and sometimes
I do wish
they would pay rent
EL SEBBO
This entry was posted on 7 April 2008 at 4:55 pm and is filed under art, bad poetry, breakfast poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, writing.
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