( psych ) Oh Paths, Less Travelled

Woodie Wood who could af Forde a suspended room ensconced within a babied shampoo’ed blued builded onced asked me…

You exploded ? What mattered ?


My self answered. I shattered. Then peaced me two-gether. A gain.

Their boat was bound by Chinatown. Their hypno-tised rowers rowed at five eight time. Their rowies did not rowed as they intended. The boat was laid listless in Darling’s Harbour. I re membered…


… a hotel room with a view over Darlings. a door knocker de livered champagne. the decayed cork allowed bubbled troubled to be boiled out side the bottled.

the doors closed. the cupboards dirtied. the bloodied bed turned upsided. the young women torned insided.


they searched and looked and searched and looked for the plushed pure-d cotton-ed on bathrobe ? ( stupid stole it ! stupid ! ) they did not see.


Nobody found nothing and no-one now knows everything.


My boots were made by stalkers. My boots are made to walk. My boots are stampin’ on my stompin’ ground.

This day true my boots walk on over two be side you…


… and me asks, may we talk about boots ?


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Shirley Burley

Artwork Craft Creative Writing Graphic Design Photography

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