Wolves Reflections In Those Ice

She liked Swiss crepes and hung from one side to the other
Erupting in roads, her pedestrian wolves saw their own reflections in icicle
Swimming in the gutters a pastime that squeezed creative juice
Tar green, gas and plenty of swingers watched on in amazement
As we kissed, as we kissed and saved the rest from wedlock.

This screenplay is surface murder only
Ignore the second act, we had you all fooled from wolves
Were you not aware of the communities joke?
Which started the whole left crying.

We are not the collective in common terms
In part of a movement was cargo of free, three strapped at wrists
Wilted policy and disgusted, shame for clarity flopped at the first hurdle
Don’t you see we are at the bosom of momentum
The sounds of the clowns raring to go another round with the museums. 

PoetryQuinton Farrow