September 3, 2019Bioman, Flash, Poem, Poet, Poetry, Uncategorized Leave a comment THE PRICE YOU PAY FOR PERFECTION I have discovered there is no perfection on this planet you go for what you want and you pay the price in some way and that is what they call a deal done in the dirts of seminal fluidity. No cum shots for you to expose to the world just nextdoor’s girl and the handy known impudence of knowing it was all too few and too entwined in useful ideas about the right of all to succeed no matter what they did. It does not matter what they shall do for it matters less than the righteous of the world’s pain. They do not know but they are alone with it, and they do not know it but they are a sonic detailed flagon of wine for me to drink, again and again and again. COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2019 Share this:TwitterFacebookPrintLinkedInEmailLike this:Like Loading...