wytchcroft | a.m.

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wild singing - she's insomnia's Angel
the wind in my electrical cable
the milk as it spills on the table
from my nerve clumsy hands
in the morning.

This caused me to write a poem! :)
But I ended up spilling vodka and killing off my ex :/

surely then, yours was a poem of action?? ;))

Hm...it ends with absolutely nothing changing lol. But if by action you happen to mean cursing existence, then yes! ;)