An old untitled poem.
This is a hangover,
and I’m on edge.
If i fall it will be onto eggshells,
but you can’t make an omlette.
Turns out I flew off the pan handle
and into the fire.
This is a hangover,
and I’m on edge.
If i fall it will be onto eggshells,
but you can’t make an omlette.
Turns out I flew off the pan handle
and into the fire.
:
16 Mar 2008 18:46
|
Tags: Eggs Hangover Poem Poetry
|
Comments (0)
|
Report a problem
Loading…

Add a comment
You are not allowed to comment on this entry as it has restricted commenting permissions.