John Lowther

SONNETS FROM 555

 

 

Ideals are society's slaves.

We are definitely ephemeral.

I just wanted to aware you all.

It all spins back to the middle.

I wanted to tear the doors open.

Later that night, I made a plan.

Horny chick wants to show off her body.

It's like peeling an onion to its core.

That was all she dreamed about: escape.

That sounds like the name of a lip gloss.

I totally have to go wherever this music is coming from.

What a chance.

That time at your work or the time in the back of the Lexus.

Dream delivers us to dream, and there is no end to illusion.

 

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