Morning, verse

Passion can’t draw
Pain can’t write
Love can’t sing
and Awe is shit with a chisel.

Joy is clumsy and steps on feet,
Nostalgia pens Vogon poetry
Anger throws the weakest punch
and as you know, Lust has no sense of humor.



(original BS by yours truly)

About puredoxyk

Word addict, kungfu/taiji nut, and life-partner to polyphasic sleep. Rabid fan of as many hobbies as the world will let me pry into its piddly fourth dimension (it helps to have knocked out the wall).
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2 Responses to Morning, verse

  1. ze says:

    Very nice!

    I feel like you're painting a picture in the negative space… like there's an answer to the riddle of what does do all those thing.


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