record player

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  • Dark Poetry

    record player
    A record player in the distance skips and repeats the phrase:
    'when will it end' ... 'when will it end' ... 'when will it end'...

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    Razorblade’s Poems (4)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    record player 0 11/21/2008
    she will do anything for you 1 11/21/2008
    LOST 1 11/21/2008
    The Beating Heart of The Dead 0 11/19/2008
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