"Where sits our sulky, sullen dame, Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm."-ROBERT BURNS
There was a large probability that the sky would come crashing down, perhaps like at any moment we could wake up. It was like the quietest immature moment provided allowences to sleep. There was a wrath. The wrath was not to be predicted, however most of the citizens on junk island knew what it was . It seemed the four horsemen were now tiktok influenced. There was a dance and craze for all .
Do you know how to make drums better ? You crank the symbols up; creat an alarm of panic. Much like the algorithms in my phone crashing away , just perfect little reminders that it's time to look anew . Its the funky mans own anthem , it's time to hold back and see the Marylin in the suburbs again. I grew up, and lit my Mandala, the brightness that comes from the man. It's not a ad lib, if I have a daughter I would teach her how to kill in silence , just like her momma. I know how to to the seventh heaven .
From a mother land , a silky smooth poetry in the man.
That's car insurance, life insurance and dental . The city is on fire, it isn't moving though. Putting the foot down .
A mouse that the hawk picks up, liar as a child now -no sweaty pits.
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GHOSTS
PoetryJameson knows A GHOST is like a long sequence of codes and letters, like computer data 🧳 Modern GHOST biology is becoming very much a well know branch of information.• There was a massive fire on a ship, Causing it to go to the Junk island w...
