Bathroom Stall Poetry
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn burn burn, like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.... Jack Kerouac-On The Road Wharneycsb@gmail.com Wandering Eyes
Prose Poetry Ask, you may not receive. Submit
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