A squeal of brakes.
Or is it a birth cry?
And here we are, hung out over the dead drop
Uncle, pants factory Fatso, millionaire.
And you out cold beside me in your chair.
...
Read full text
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
Onomatopoeic use superbly gave a musical magical effect..death fear every where...Sad Hamlet, with a knife? Where do you stash your life?