Something Must Be Done About The Moon
The moon alone is capable of murder.
The moon will piss on her place in fairytales if she is drunk enough.
They tied her hands behind her back but she did not sign the confession.
She makes long phonecalls like a teenager who won’t hang up first.
The moon has poisoned the water but made a dream of ribbons for you to sleep in.
She’s sure to be harbouring soviets in her svelte fur.
The moon is a pattern of malice and indecision.
She had children but kept them in her belly and made them eat blood.
The moon is present in many romances.
The moon is a bandaid on your sliced horizon.
The moon is an old stenographer and she takes down details thin and fast.
She wrote a song but they hollowed it out for a boat and pushed it into the river.
They held an engagement on her decks and the face of the young couple shone like pots and pans after generous scouring.
The moon is apparently purple and undisturbed.
During the day the moon lives under the bridge which halves the town for lovers who need to live in two to be in love.
The moon is a bulge of heartlessness; if you licked her she’d taste like silver.
She is like an old coin in your mouth; fingerless women need their revenge and the moon is an aphrodisiac currency.
The moon drove over the edge by the beach where young girls back down in station wagons.
You are so heavy under the eyes; the moon keeps her groceries there, and a bag packed for hospital in case you fall and miss her red carpet.
The moon is spider vein burst in the sky; they can remove her with laser treatment.
She left a fingernail out to trip up the prince.
The moon got married too young and learnt the hard way; welcome to the real world the moon’s mother said.
She took the quiz in a magazine and scored what you’d expect of a cipher.
The moon is an autobiographer but she works in pencil to avoid prosecution.
The moon has been used enough, leave her alone.
The moon would zip up her skirt and hitch to a town where you don’t hear their voices.
Hey diddle diddle the moon walked into a door; that’s the official version.
She chews up the dead so you can digest them.
Page(s) 183
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