I am
bloated by shimmering storms
blasting bolts through every
nerve ending
for my brownies
to chase and chase.
Have you figured out what brownies are?
YOU ARE READING
Waiting for the Rain to Fall
PoetryPoems that twine thread around the broken bits of a soul, that fling umbrella lips into beaming buckets and kind of just make you want to say, "life is beautiful, isn't it?" - a totally unbiased review from me, the author.
Distractions
I am
bloated by shimmering storms
blasting bolts through every
nerve ending
for my brownies
to chase and chase.
Have you figured out what brownies are?
