bent like fortune’s favorite twigs

she drank him like her favorite bedtime drink
the party down the hall was overplaying blink 182
and he was johnny walker red down to his curling toes
and bent like fortune’s favorite twigs
they rode the wind the blast the everlasting bit
of neverlanding planes that skim the surface of
the runways that could never give them rest

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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