i don’t
give a
shit abt
aesthetics
but i
love the
look of
a 45 auto
all words
are rotting
from the
inside
out so
breaking
a line
is like
snapping
a bone
& death
is betting
on the
end of
the poem
& i
wanna
give him
a thru
& thru
I don’t…
Filed under poems by todd moore