Sunday, December 27, 2020

I dream of pesto (a failed poem)

The morning after

the day after

the day after

the night before Xmas

The killer awoke

put his boots on

and he walked on down the Hall

and he came 2a door

looked inside

and spake thus:


ima gunna STONE YOU

--- I dream of making pesto with acorns by, uh... NUN E. MUSS

The Alchemist, Geoff, was in a purple haze. 

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