A poet. Yes with a King Charles spaniel and up-lighters.
Market stalls and wondering dick heads at chav night.
Fuck you.

Sun a March born miracle.
Now gone split glimmer of bright light. Motorway,
Anticipation and cherish like yesterday pluss.

I see them again. Tiny sheep, furry birdies,
#babysheepflesh,
As one would expect as we approach crucifixion o’clock.

Barr Barr white sheep, have you any thoughts,
Or is it just my vegan ego thinking for you.

Fur on green a pleasure to see,
A feeling of cute,
As long as i forget their purpose,
The meaning of sheep.

Future dots of death in nature,
Bloody fruits, unfortunately.

© PinkyBinks