Poetry Portfolio

Play a Dirge at the Punk Gig

I walk into a room and it feels like a funeral. Pale faces, cold breath, blocked chimneys. Victorian indoors. Pouts. Sleepy glass see through whattakes up the soil. Once beloved, forbidden now. Imposter syndrome for actual imposters.Those who’d dial trebble-nine,toss my name on the deadpool. Golden ticket in hand,numbers match. My demise,after all, been confirmed. […]