Pena

Pena Her litle head clinking Like a barrel of red velvet balls Full past noise Treats filled her eyes Turning them yellow like enamel coated tacks Soft like butter hard not to pour Out enjoying the sun while sitting on a turned on waffle iron Smoke billowing up from between her legs Made me vomit beautifully And crush a chandelier Fall on my stomach ‘n view her From a thousand happened facets Liquid red salt ran over crystals I later band-aided the area Sighed Oh well it was worth it Pena pleased but sore from sitting Choose to stub her toe ‘n view the whiteRead More →