I read out a poem I had written on the fly very much in this style.
It was after a couple of pints at a spoken word evening I had been dragged to.
I remember that it was about self harm and I'd cleverly made the first letter of every word spell out something about pretentious bollocks. Sadly I only remember the bollocks bit.
Bent
Over
Lacerated
Legs,
Old
Carving
Knife
Scars
You should look to never being able to make a living out of that.
(, Fri 6 May 2016, 20:17, Share, Reply)