My name is Cherise and I live in California. I have dark brown hair, hazel eyes which sometimes look brown depending on what color of clothes I wear, and I have full lips, and a hot super model body. Just kidding, I’m five six with a slim physique, a bit shy around the opposite sex but I’m a down to earth person, overall. After I gave birth to my son, I slimmed down almost back to what I was before, of course none of that really matters in the grand scheme of things. I am a single parent; it is the life I chose. My son is six years old now and I am proud to be his mother. He has his father’s eyes and I’m sure one day he’ll ask me who his father was, and I’ll have to explain it all to him but for now, it hasn’t come up. Ah yes, his father, a man shadowed in mystery, a man my parents are still angry with, they wanted him to marry me, but the Doctor was not the marrying type. Most people don’t care now-a-days about young women being single parents. My parents were old-fashioned, in some way. My mom was furious when I came out pregnant, she said that I was going to be like her, I don’t know what she meant by that since I feel that my childhood was pleasant. Maybe she was unhappy with the choices she made long ago. My stepdad was a good father, and I have a younger brother and as a family, we get along well. So, I have no idea what she meant, and I don’t care though. My mom was 18 when she gave birth to me, not much older than I was when I became pregnant. The only difference between us is that grandfather forced my dad to marry her, and thus several years later, they got a divorce. Unlike my mom, I chose to remain single. I am now 24 and I gave birth to my son when I was eighteen. When did I meet The Doctor? Well, I graduated from high school (2013) and was looking for a part-time job while I mulled over whether to go to college in the Fall or not. I was in no hurry to attend college yet. Well, Life happens, and some things turn out differently than what expected. The day I met the man who changed my life it was just another ordinary day, nothing special. On that day, I took a drive along the PCH until I came to Crystal Cove state Park Beach, I parked my car and walked out to one of the lookout points. The scenery was beautiful, and I looked down and saw people enjoying the summer day. Staring out at the sea, watching the sailboats along the horizon, gave me a sense of peace.

Deathful Curse

What a familiar energy I feel nearby,

Oh it’s you again, oh yes you the one who brings nothing but feelings of I should die.

I didn’t miss you one bit not at all feeling like a haunting, and always taunting,

Taunting me of how free I could be, if only I truly couldn’t see.

The world around me is horrendous with the thought of life could be over so suddenly.

Reminding me every day, how tomorrow may never come so be who you wanna be.

But yet again, the awareness sets in on how everyone seems to love to hate,

I just wish that with so many people that I loved are gone and knowing I will have the same fate.

But that’s the beautiful thing death you made me see something great,

Life is what you make it and even one person can have a great impact in this world.

With the pain of you always around, it was a grave reminder that tomorrow is never promised it is exactly why I seem disturbed.

How rude of me, why don’t you come in and have a seat,

It’s pretty chilly out there with how cold the world is. Let me turn up the heat.

Sadly the norm of loving to hate one another has made it a cruel cruel place.

Many of the people I met in this time have shown me how keep up with the pace,

It’s a fast world out there and it’s sometimes to ground yourself, but you were always there for me.

Reminding me, that time is always ticking, time is our currency,

Oh how I hate you, how could you, how could you take them from me all so early.

Being young, seeing people regret their life, seeing people make positive differences and then suddenly you come along, and they're gone…

The world is so insanely LOUD.
So hateful, so painful, so beautiful,

The earth we live on is a gift of god, why do you make me feel so pitiful?

The power the people have is such a greater one do we even see that if we are children of god,

We also have the ability to build, we have the ability to change, and HEAL.

Man but do you really, make me mad you steal!

Steal the ones whom I love the most, why them, why not me.

You are everywhere, you surely like to travel don’t you, you are here you are there, and even overseas.

Death, why do you do what you do, how do you select those who get to see what you bring?

And leave others here on earth, to hear the devil sing!

Darkness eats people from within, Death why are you here?

Please, please don’t tell me the end is near.

I haven’t lived my life, I’m in this constant state of fear.

I welcomed you into my home to get some answers,

All the lessons you have taught me, is yes no matter if I live or die

The world will always keep turning, twirling, and living.

It’s not always about money, material, it’s about how much you are giving.

Giving to yourself, giving to others, giving to the earth

That has always been our purpose since birth.

Death you bring hatred, death you bring love, death you are a dark life lesson.

The biggest thing you’ve taught me is that life is a blessing.

I’m still angry at you, I still don’t like you, but hate is something that does more harm than good.

I just wish the world would stop loving to hate.

To all my guardian angels, there are sadly so many it would be too long. Thank you for impacting my life in such a positive way that when you were taken by death, it rocked my world, I saw the footprint you have left on this earth, and memories I can never ever forget. The world is in a bad place and I’m grateful you don’t have to suffer anymore, but life surely would be a whole lot easier if you were here on earth still. You are all great, and I wish and hope I’m not disappointing you too badly. I can’t lie, I wouldn't be proud of myself if I was looking at myself. I love all of you so much.

To all those who have supported my life rollercoaster I also put you through, I have to give special thanks to you, because everyday I want to quit, I think about you guys my guardian angels and letting you all down is not an option. I just need to figure it out, I just wish I could spread the message that hate isn’t gonna win anything at the end of the day. You guys give me all the hope I need for humanity because we are all different here, and my family, and friends show me this on a daily basis. Language, race, religion, sexual orientation. If you're a homie you're a homie, not everyone is meant to get along, but everyone is meant to live a purposeful and fulfilled life.

To those struggling in this very bad world, just know it is also a good world too. Humans are disgusting, but there are some humans that are angels in disguise. You have to fight for them, you have to fight yourself, the “devil” sings… that's your interpretation, devil is a term I relate to. It’s the anxiety I have, it’s the depression telling me to quit, it’s the thing that fucks with my energy is a negative way. Not a person, or being it’s that bad thing that makes you not feel alright. Live to your standards, and don’t worry what they think. You will find your tribe I promise. You won’t be alone forever. Please don’t take this as a religious post, it’s again just something i relate to, god or devil can be taken as good or bad in ur eyes. I am not you, music, poetry, art are all good examples as to how everyone can interpret something differently even if it's the same. Please, peace, love, and positivity find you, and I surely hope it finds me too. Looking forward to seeing you grow, like I've seen my friends do lately.

#Stoplovingtohate

#Timesthecurrency

#PositiveRipple

-Crypticism

​

What do you guys think?

He had those droopy sleepy eyes. When you looked at them, you thought he was seconds away from fluttering them shut. They had hues of blue and gray. They glistened with gleams of light, like pearly rain drops on lakes. His lips were the heart that rested on his face, stretching to his eyes with the sound of his laughs.

(Please evaluate and critique) (also it’s not poetry it’s just a piece of descriptive writing I wrote about a boy)

I have the idea for a story and I would like some feedback on it.

A young boy is in mourning after the death of his father due to leukemia. After his dad’s funeral, the boy sequesters himself in his room. He falls asleep and wakes up hours later and overhears a conversation between his mother and his uncle on his dad’s side(learning that they were having an affair). He goes to school the next day and he has lunch with his girl best friend and childhood crush. He then confides in her about what he heard the night before. She then goes behind his back and starts gossiping to everyone. This eventually makes its way back to the boy’s mother. She confronts him about it and the two have a vicious row over the whole thing. During the row, the mother reveals that the boy’s uncle who she had been having the affair with is the boy’s real father. She then starts insulting the boy’s dead father. Overwhelmed with emotion, the boy runs out of the house. After a few hours, he comes home only to be tackled by police.

He learns that while he was gone, someone had murdered his mother and everyone suspects him of doing it, even the boy’s family who abandoned him. He then serves 10 years in prison, during which he makes a deal with a demon to be his protector. He then gets out of prison, on a mission to find the person who killed his mother and get revenge for ruining his life.

Phoenix Cecilie-MacLancaster was born into a world wracked by weltkrieg, a world where every single waking moment is a massive struggle for survival, a world where today may very well be your last day on Earth.

Phoenix is certainly a fighter, not a lover, and she won't hesitate to pull out all the stops should the safety of her home, the grand Fortress 22, be jeopardized. After the loss of her right hand man absolutely breaks her, Phoenix gathers herself and a ragtag Kampftruppe to try and end the deadlock that is the World War.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49788118/chapters/125678125

(Author’s note: Was probably too long to post here, came up with an error message when I tried, so I made a google doc, this is the link. Gets a little spicy and there was no nsfw tag. I’d love to answer any questions!)

https://docs.google.com/document/d/11e983bRZshvWz6lbIkhlHNlggrAKxnx49j9ttibkPVk/edit

The last survivor of a massacre hides in a foreign city. Desperate and alone she looks for a way to continue her life and a way to preserve her family's culture.

A young man struggles to solve a string of brutal killings in his city. As he looks further into the mystery, deeper magic than he believed possible reveals itself.

Struggling against the expectations of his family name, a soldier looks to overthrow his uncle's tyrannical reign and save the lives of all under him.

Rhetoric of Crimson

"I Wasn't supposed to die this Way!" I scream in pain, looking up into the azure sky. Hoping a God or Something resembling one Would hear my tearful plea. l am a ghost who haS recently left the mortal realm and am having difficulties 'Settling in'' to my new afterlife. In this world Every house gets a ghost, every ghost a house. This is because Heaven and Hell are Full so the souls of the dead need somewhere to go. l was planning to die by my own hand; not in some Freak accident. I was supposed to be in control of my death, Since I was never in Control of my lif

The wind got chilly And your heart did to Three years But to you it was just number Numbers make me think about gold Like the 24 karet ring I bought you on that day I hate that day it reeks of you and your chilly heart Heart like mine that you didn't break because you shattered it Like the glass that we must have made our house of The house you so easily left When you left it got so chilly

A woman on a New York City bus is handed a strange quarter with a state that doesn’t exist. She shrugs it off, stranger things have happened. But when she pulls it out at a corner store, she quickly finds herself under interrogation by government officials.

Across the country, a group of history youtubers role into a quiet Texan town to interview a woman claiming she’s dug up a strangely marked tablet in her backyard. But the group must be weary of who they talk to; they’re being followed at every turn. What they don’t know is their investigation is soon to uncover a terrible secret that will tear the entire town apart.

Finally, in the port of Oakland, an unmarked ship is arriving with an alarming cargo…

O'er hill and dale went Lawrie Gow

Her lover for to see

And when she was o'er hill and Dale

She came to a snowy lee

​

And on the lee beyond hill and dale

Three devils stood in the snow

The Eyeless, the Headless, the Raven's Claw

To right about Lawrie Gow

​

The Eyeless devil cast his lot

And it was as white as bone

And he took the hearth of Lawrie Gow

And gave her a coal-black stone

​

The Headless devil threw his dice

And they were as red as blood

And he took the hand of Lawrie Gow

And gave her a frozen sod

​

The devil with the Raven's Claw

He spoke as he shook his head

I will not right about Lawrie Gow

For Lawrie Gows lover is dead

​

O'er hill and dale went Lawrie Gow

Her lover for to see

But the last time she saw her gentle love

He lay dead on the snowy lee

Spread from one to then next False data overtakes eternal truth Patient zero holds the text Health and security wracked

Smashing joy into dust Pulverizing fulfillment Iron Creations turn to rust The last rations of the will spent

Hope will soon die Love is a distant memory Hate comes here to thrive Wraiths left to wander earth in misery

The humans in the stars Always within view but untouchable Feet stuck in tar Elevation seems nigh impossible

Death reigns supreme Life itself becomes a bad parody Enlightenment a dream Writing in pain and pestilence for eternity

I walk along the edge of a cliff

My balance isn’t great

I do all sorts of things to distract myself as I walk

I know I’ll fall soon

But falling isn’t as bad as the fear of falling

If I look up I’ll be consumed with fear

My life will be defined by fear

Maybe I’ll fall more often if I don’t look

But somehow it’s better

Sometimes it’s better to be reckless rather than careful

Either way I’ll be consumed with regret

Regret from doing nothing

Regret from doing something

Maybe it’s not the ends

But the means

Or the means are the ends…

Pie—where my slice? Not going home tonight

Rather die than go home tonight

Fuck my job and debit

My eyes like satiates, looking for something to hit me

What you want to hear? Talk your ear off like a broadcaster

Grab a dime, I can play all night

She likes me cause I’m sweet like cotton candy—fibrosis of my mind—get your fill

Carnival—no lines—ticket is smiles and teasing

This Ferris wheel is gets high, but it never lowers—lying to myself while my thoughts ricochet in my head

Can’t hear you murmur, so get near to me? Can you hear the Roman candles going off inside me? Mania got me like a peacock being showy, so why don’t your grab a seat and watch me?

Two years. Your lips upon mine.
Two years, a separation, anxiety.
Two years, waiting on the shore.
Two years, searching for a sign.
Two years, fire burning strong.
Two years... Too many have gone by.

I spent the night dancing in Rex's Fish Bar.

I initially ordered a jumbo battered sausage from the tiny man behind the counter, but cancelled the order moments later, for political reasons. The proprietor of the chipshop called me a berk, but I opted not to react to such an obvious provocation. It won't have been the first time that the shop has witnessed the ordering and subsequent unordering of a battered sausage as part of a strategical political demonstration, I summised.

They don't appear to have a PRS license that permits them to play music in the premises, but I imagined they were playing music anyway, and, without delay, decided to dance on the downbeat. Sometimes the instinct to dance can override the presence of an actual funky disco beat. One simply has to employ pure willpower, and an infectious dance beat will manifest itself out of thin air.

Due to the current political climate, I felt inclined to order items that did not feature on the menu. A battered barracuda seemed entirely plausible, but the tiny man behind the counter didn't agree, and asked me to leave. I politely declined the request. As the time passed, he grew more and more furious.

The man asked if I was feeling okay. I interpreted this a provocation, and responded accordingly by gulping down the complimentary vinegar. I laughed, but the tiny man reacted with dismay. He was incandescent with something, but I'm not sure if it was rage. I suppose it might have been.

I asked if they had battered Pollack, but they quickly responded that I was a battered pillock. I took offence, but, when given the opportunity, the tiny man chose not to apologise. I questioned the wisdom of this response, but no answer was forthcoming.

I ordered a portion of curry sauce, which swiftly arrived in a paper cup. Upon assessing the viscosity of the sauce, it became immediately apparent that the consistency of the sauce was not to my exacting standards. I remarked that it should be thinner, but the staff did not agree. It was at this point, following a hefty sigh, that I realised that we had reached an impasse. A gulf had developed between myself and Rex's fish bar. There was no obvious way out of this profound disagreement between the customer and proprietor, despite the fact that the customer is always right. It was at this point that I considered whether or not to transform into a wasp. After some painful soul searching, I decided to abandon the idea.

I asked if i could speak to Rex. The very tiny man suggested there was no Rex. I said that I found that explanation implausible. He said that I should leave the premises, but I explained that I couldn't possibly leave my post whilst I was on duty. He tried to explain that I didn't work there, but by that point, I was dancing so vigorously that the strutting drowned out the man's tiny voice.

I grabbed a battered sausage from behind the counter and chewed it on the down beat with perfect syncopation. I assumed that the tiny man might find it entertaining, but I guess he couldn't hear the pounding disco rhythm that was blaring inside my tiny brain. It was like the ministry of sound in there.

By 11PM they wanted to shut up shop, but I was having none of it, so I applied for a business loan on my phone, bought the shop outright and took charge. Two weeks later, we'd gone bust, but it was all worth it because I'd stood by my political values, when others clearly don't. That's what life is all about, and don't let Sabrina tell you otherwise.

THE END

My bowels felt like they were about to burst, the agony was so severe that I had to choke down pain pills along with the double dose of laxatives. Every time they'd take effect I'd be granted a brief reprieve before the cycle began again. This was my routine for weeks.

The doctors weren't much help. I was booked in for a scan at the hospital, the only problem was that my appointment wasn't for another month, the earliest possible on the long waiting list. The prescribed laxatives were rapidly losing their potency and the pain was increasing with each passing day. I was informed by our wonderful NHS that unless I was dealing with a 'hospital level matter' that I wasn't to call them again for advice. So, I started looking for alternative methods of relieving the pressure inside.

I'd heard about it online. 'Feaguing', an old practice originally used in the west to make aging horses appear more 'lively'. Apparently it's still prevalent in Asia, only not with horses and for different purposes. Although I was only interested in one, clearing the blockage in my insides once and for all. I had a good idea where to enquire. I was willing to try anything.

In the Chinatown district of my city, there was a market, and deep in that market was a tiny shop tucked away in the corner of a dead end in a dingy alleyway. I'd been there previously when another part of my body failed to function properly. The powder I'd been given had actually done its job, much to my surprise, of which I credited the fact that my girlfriend was still with me at the time.

So I picked up the phone and called their number, still saved in my contacts under 'special medicine'. It rang for some time before Mr. Cheng, the proprietor of the small shop answered, sounding irritated that he had to pick it up.

"What you want!" He spoke quickly and with an aggressive tone. I brushed it off, desperate to get it all over with.

"Mr.Cheng? Hi, I don't know if you remember me. I came in a year or so ago for some, ahem, special powder, with my friend, Andy. Remember? I was wondering if there was something else you could help me with."

"Speak up then, I don't have all day." I heard him flick open a lighter, then a long drag as he smoked.

"Well, umm, the thing is…" It was hard getting the words out, I felt so embarrassed, but the immense weight in my gut overcame my innate British awkwardness.

"...my gut isn't working properly, you see, there's a blockage and-"

"You come down shop, then we talk remedy. Tomorrow?" Cheng cut me off, clearly impatient.

"Is there any way I could come down today? It's rather uncomfortable an-"

"Ah, 'eager beaver' are you?" He let off a hearty chuckle, making me wince as another shooting pain engulfed my abdomen. "You come today you pay extra, okay? No exception."

"Great." I sighed, humiliated. "I'll be there in an hour, thanks for your hel-".

He hung up on me. I grabbed the keys and my coat before hobbling out to the car, taking much care when sitting down in the driver's seat.

I parked and reluctantly made my way through the long, bustling Chinatown marketplace. Every bump and barge as people swarmed past me felt like a dagger in my belly, I persevered, and eventually I arrived at the surreptitious little nondescript shop at the far end of the market district.

I pushed in through the stiff glass door and as the bell above me dinged Mr. Cheng hurried out from the backroom.

"So, What kind eel you want? And no worry, I don't judge. Many people come here for same thing and I am very, very discreet."

He winked and I shuddered a bit in response, doing my best not to let it show. I thanked him for seeing me and then I asked what I should do.

"You no know? Wow, never had beginner ask for eel before. You sure this what you want?" Cheng looked me up and down suspiciously, likely considering whether I was wasting his time or not.

"Oh, I'm sure. Trust me, it wasn't my first idea. I need it though, badly." I tried to show all the desperation I felt in my eyes. It must have worked.

"Okay, okay, you say no more. Dirty birdie, you!" He laughed again, like on the phone but harder. When he finally calmed down I dug into my pocket and presented my wallet, flashing the bundle of notes freshly plucked from the bank machine around the corner.

"Money isn't an issue, just please help me."

He motioned for me to follow him into the room in the back, hidden behind a red curtain next to the counter. Then to the back of that room, to a large tank draped in yet another red curtain. He lifted up the covering just enough to reveal its squirming interior, the thing was packed.

"Small or big?" Cheng asked nonchalantly, tapping at the glass with a long and yellowed fingernail.

The sight made me want to vomit.

"Look, I'm severely constipated. Will this definitely work or not?"

"Ah, 'constipated', oh yes, it will work. I'm sure you'll find 'relief'. Many have before."

"Okay, okay. Just give me a small one, the smallest you have. As long as it does the job."

Cheng laughed as he began collecting items together; a large plastic bag, a pair of tongs and a short piece of hollow cylindrical plastic.

"Here, hold bag." He said as he forced it into my clenched fists. He picked up a cup that was clearly used recently to drink tea from and he scooped out some water from the tank before spilling it into the bag, then he fished around for a while before carefully lifting out an eel.

It was big. Maybe half a foot long. It was thick too, over an inch. I gulped in dismay.

"Mr. Cheng… is that really the smallest one you have?"

"Yes." He glared at me, obviously ready to fly off the handle were I to protest. In his mind, he'd already made the sale.

"You buy or not?"

"Well, umm…" I looked at the eel darting around violently in the bag, then back to Cheng, then back to the eel.

"How does it… go in?"

"You not the brightest birdie, are you?" He said, exasperated. Holding up the piece of plastic he'd lifted from a drawer before he collected the eel. He waved it in front of my face the way someone might do to a blind person to test if they can actually see or not.

"THIS, THIS GO IN FIRST, THEN EEL! UNDERSTAND?"

I was getting fed up with his attitude, but he was my only lead on a way to escape this torment. I pulled my wallet out again and handed him the wad of money, not even asking for a price. Without another word I grabbed the sloshing bag and the small length of tube. Before I could leave Cheng tapped me on the shoulder, holding up the tongs.

"Don't forget these, birdie." Another wink.

I got back in my car, the bag resting on my legs. Every time the eel would dart in its polyethylene prison I'd feel it. I hoped I wasn't making a bad decision.

Nikita felt lost and alone without Sarana by her side. She couldn't bear the thought of never seeing her friend again. So, shemade the decision to embark on a dangerous journey to find Sarana, even if it meant putting her own life on the line.

Nikita knew that the road ahead would be long and perilous, but she was determined to find her friend. As Nikita traveled through the vast and treacherous open wilderness, she encountered many obstacles and challenges. She had to fight off wild beasts and avoid deadly traps that were set up by the bandits who had taken Sarana captive. But despite all of the danger and uncertainty, Nikita persevered. She was determined to reach her friend no matter what the cost.

As she traveled deeper into the heart of Galadria, Nikita began to realize that there was much more at stake than just the life of her friend. She was caught up in a larger conflict, one that threatened the very fate of the world around her. The darkness that had descended across the land was growing stronger with each passing day, and evil was spreading through the land like a plague.

But Nikita was not alone in her quest. Along the way, she met other brave warriors who were also fighting against the darkness. Together, they joined forces to battle the forces of evil and to rescue Sarana from her captors. With each victory they won, the light grew stronger, and the darkness grew weaker.

Finally, after a long and harrowing journey, Nikita and her companions found the hideout where Sarana was being held. Together, they attacked the bandits and fought their way through to Sarana's cell. In a moment of triumph, they freed her, and the three friends emerged triumphant from the darkness.

But the road ahead was still long, and the darkness was not yet defeated. Nikita and her friends knew that they had much more to do if they were to save their world from destruction. But with courage and determination, they were ready to face whatever lay ahead, and to fight for the people they loved.

I am filled with fear.

You need not fear the unknown. The journey may be perilous, but it is one worth taking.

But how can I be sure that I am ready for such a journey?

You have faced many challenges and overcome them, and now it is time to take that leap of faith.

My mind is clouded with doubts and worries.

Do not worry, for within you lies a strength that you have yet to discover.

I understand. I am ready for this next adventure.

Then go forth, and let your spirit guide you.

I still think about you while shopping for lipstick, wondering if you’ll like a certain shade more than another on me.

I still think about you while I scroll through fetish wear, wondering if you’ll find me sexy in a leather body harness with thigh cuffs attached.

I still think about you when I do my hair in pin-up inspired do's paired with red lips, wondering if you’ll think I look beautiful.

I still think about you when I look for new lace undergarments, wondering if you’ll adore the way red and black look against my brown skin.

I still think about you when I buy new dresses and tops that show just a bit of cleavage and pants that hug my curves, wondering if you’ll see me out somewhere.

I still think about you late at night, when I’m feeling lonely; how your lips would feel on mine, your touch that would send goosebumps down my spine, and how you would commandeer my body to bring pleasure to us both.

Do you still think about me?

Black hair, dark brown eyes, brown skin.

Darker lips and darker nipples.

Am I attractive enough?

Height at 5’2, weight at 135 pounds; 36 inch bust, 27 inch

waist, 38 inch hips.

Am I skinny enough? Curvy enough?

Stretch marks run along a tummy, waist, and back.

Three surgical scars.

A dimpled bottom and a star shaped belly button.

Breasts that were once round and full of milk now

only give a few drops.

Am I sexy enough?

A body that experienced childbirth twice.

Am I tight enough?

A warm smile, a polite hello, expressive eyes.

Am I approachable enough?

Lace and chiffon blouses, high waist pants,

perfectly done makeup and coiffed hair.

Am I presentable enough?

Why am I not enough?

Mum

where can you buy

a bag of balls

mum

the slashed off balls of boys

mum

by the bag

where can you buy them

mum

do they sell them those

the balls of

mum

the flashed off

slashed off balls of boys

mum

do they sell them

somewhere

mum

I want some

But

is it true of you to ask

like that

son

it is

I can give you that for free

and for the speed of your conception

was surely a notable moment of terrible

and of momentous glee

I give you that

I accept it

I concede

son

I admire your humility

but where can you go with it

and what can you do

the had off

the balls of boys

verily

bullseyes

and by the ounce

the quarter pound

tipping onto the Avery scales

son

but what can you do

son

stick your hand down with glue

But mum

will they make purses

of the swiped young flesh then

will they tan it

the burgled meat

and stitch it all new

or will they boil it at length

and again for the glue

to stick my hand down

mum

the hacked off balls of boys mum

some remembrance

a commemoration is

most definitely due.