My beloved, a shore of love passes through me
Terrible Poetry Contest
“It is the end of the world,” someone chokes; there is a lull.
Stockpiling food for twenty years and toilet paper rolls
Little Willie was afraid of mice;
He laid in bed nearly suffice,
His head on the pillow felt oddly flat,
As it was actually an obese New York rat.
I wanted to smack you in the head with my math book,
But that smile made me take another look.
Maybe I’d hit your friend.