He’s the pebble in my eye

A broken tart claimed unemplyment benefits last night in Very grim offices.
A hollow soul has been filled with concrete in Birmingham.
A rose buys any other name it chooses.
He has a solitary soul, unlike me as I have two or even three.
A soul full of belonging is lonely here.
A bowl full of sorrow is not a meal
The whole of discretion is not enough.
A weary heart is ready to flow
Absence makes the heart groan and founder
Factions speak less true than turds.
After my own heart,I ate his with sauteed potatoes and spsinach for my tea.
All’s not there above the eye.
He’s the cobble in my eye.He’s the cinder in my nose;don’t tell him he’s just a pebble on my knee..
As far as the I can flee,I ran.Then I ran again.I broke the record

Advertisements

About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
This entry was posted in thoughts. Bookmark the permalink.