I might start taking Saturday's off. Not of writing a poem, just posting. This is something to debate. Will let everyone know.
I need me some sunshine.
Arrows don't flower so much as cause flowering
Point on skin blooms vessels and spills white light
Why are you the bulls-eye?
The raging thorny forehead lashing against red
You covered yourself in goat skin came up the hills
Kicking dirt into the eyes of anyone asking anything
Spear points fly, enormous arrows exploding
Making your back rupture into field of poppies
You mate like this, making Minotaur of our love
You Pasiphae, you thin disguised ex.
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