Photo by Matt Brown on Unsplash
Soapbox searching, society’s shambles. Squares, streets, shrubs. Speaking, standing, seen. Swarm swims savagely. Scattering shabby services. Soul-seeking sonata. Shoddy stuff, spectacular site, saturated sun.
Step-by-step supervising societal shackles sufficiently. Seize, siege, slay! Surely said. (S)words strike, shan’t spare splendour. Show! Save some shekels son!
Shackles sliced. Some strange sense substantiated. Soil’s sugary shelter. Satisfaction sense stopped.
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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