Meaningless sex
Twenty- something sex are bodies.
thrown down like sophomore prose.
Unedited nonsense that almost meant little.
Look at our quarry of pointless stars.
Davy-lamps in solar system of death
Noone writes about God when she rested.
I just stamped on a ladybird because I could.
Felt the crunch through my Adidas sole.
Felt an echo through my overkill death.
Last night I watched Jack die in Titanic.
Rose had plenty of room, but he was poor.
I think all know the ocean has no heart.
Antony Owen is from Coventry and is not important but tries to write about important things because it is important to do that. www.brokensleepbooks.com