in which the poet refrains from writing another insipid ode
i have nothing just the vapid dismay that flavours the words i would say if saying them meant anything at all so we sit letting the silence envelop us your move empty room
i have nothing just the vapid dismay that flavours the words i would say if saying them meant anything at all so we sit letting the silence envelop us your move empty room
Mike's Manic Word Depot 