Sardonic reserves of time kept patience
blending outward in rippling shades of hatred.
Baby, you’ve got that heart shaped gaping wound
says you’re bathed in longing for now not soon.
Nothing moves faster than a synapse firing off kilter
blistering brain waves melting downwind all splintered.
If the days were longer and I could taste your fears
all that we’d share could be understanding made clear.
So if you’ll touch your enthusiastic distaste to mine
lets go passe with anticipation and the cheapest wine.
Show me your ugly that I might gag and spew
my own redolent virus of loving life all over you.
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 
Hi there! Your poetry is lively and I love the use of metaphors!! Truly outstanding! Iām glad to have found you! ~Kelsey
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Hey there Kelsey – thank you so very much, means the world to me when someone takes the time to leave a comment, brightened up my whole day and I can’t wait to check out Brit Wit, š
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My pleasure! And no pressure on returning! Just needed to compliment a great piece and didnāt except anything in return. š
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Force of habit my friend, if you’re considerate enough to offer unsolicited encouragement the least I could do is check out your work in turn. Plus, a suggestion from the name that some British styled humor might be at my fingertips is like putting a loaded crackpipe in the mailbox of a fiend, far too tempting. š
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