Exhaling copious fumes refusing to cooperate with the system.
Forming circles, oblong but vertical, if that makes sense.
Steam burns that hurt more than boiling water.
Time equals 4:10 pm. That shrink trying to trace what becomes of lapsed time. Find an alibi to beat it all. Required however, only if the hour is exceeded.
That rage with which angels wear you down. Honor among thieves, anyone?! Marred by dishonest judgement coming from mutilated justice.
Or that Code of Conduct for the visually impaired bystanders.
Severed ties bruising more than amputated limbs. Paralyzed torsos with better chances at life than a little sound conscience.
With steam blurring his vision, finally he said, “Polly, let’s all have some tea!”. And, the kettle was on all this time.
Time check - 5:09 pm.
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- In response to the 12 September 2020 Saturday Poetry Prompt by J.D. Harms, using a verb in the title, and not the same elsewhere!
The following references may help make some sense out of the above:
- Polly Put the Kettle on:
- Split Personality: