Poems from Jörmundgandr

What's there to know that can't be said through my poetry? I'm a romantic.
Sink Full of  Dirty dishes, The tap leaks Drip....        Drip....               Drip....   Time has never been so lucid; Depravity etched...
My words are    A sweet wine  Which ever  So slowly melts Like slushies in summer Into your  Plutonian  Dreams: I laid On the warmth  Of...
As boney fingers of branches clasp the waning sky I look forward ever onward and see her as she cries. Helpless to damn her fluid streams...
I sat in my car  Sweating to the sounds  Of a composer  Who wrote sheets of music That he believed would Never be heard By anyone else...
With mixed  And Mottled emotions We sail wayward ships Out from seagull Encrusted shores  Across a beating Ocean, hissing like vipers That...

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