Sucker punched souls, No let it not be so!

GET LIT…ONE COULD BURN THE WRONG WAY!

Weirds Are Word

Lunacy in every nook and cranny. Uncanny the secrets of your soiled souls putrid display. Only lucid to those who lurked in the night. Go to sleep you are a fright

If only you could remember the words you sobbed in your inebriation. They would make anyone have goose bumps the size of boulders. Secrets no one should ever have to wear upon there shoulders

Perverse were the things that lay dormant until blood thirsty it fed from the pint sized Fireball Whiskey you always had waiting for you by your bed. It was cloak and dagger. Then you admitted all your sin in the dark as inhibtions transitioned with each taste. Stop, stop talking you are making me sick

Sucker punched is the only way I could explain it. You would have no recollection of the twisted words that broke from there holding cell. Me I was now in…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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