the Oxford coma

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the Oxford coma

Post by sgt.null »

the Oxford coma

I am a mad lad, sonic
boom, read the room

pulling along a straight
edge. Along the curve,
a cursive credo in the
virtuoso bag. Dixie rag.

incinerate - burning hell,
awaits little illusion. our
hazard pay numbness as
we bleed ourselves dry.

green spells, old school
summer drummer falls
winter. springs forward,
falls back. standard deck.

lost in morning fog, love
infiltrates. head to metal
Motown. Had a transistor
radio under a pillow
Lenin, Marx
Marx, Lennon
Good Dog...
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