My little brittle Universe

how to deal deuces with wild
opposite day where gun powers
stories of furious love,
and bug “nim”
for the price
of cloning high, high
grinding like crocodile skin,
when everybody’s fine
following american dreams
east-wick risks, while being
the worst witch in alpha form,
residing in hollow grace-land
slying razorback
and here I am heart-huckabos
who cant finds a friend
that treasure murder party
flashforwarding the single people
favoring some vague vogue.

The moon shines in the inner darkness,

hidden from the flint of broken glass !!

This is a prompted post on #WritingWednesdays

Don't tell me the moon is shining;
show me the glint of light on broken glass.
― Anton Chekhov

I hope the #POET community appreciate the effort in this poem.

Comments and suggestions welcome !

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