born with a bionic nostril
Sorry,its a fart poem
Sensitive allure, frank fragrance wafts
Its heady penance my way
Deep scorn, whispers float into tuts
Expletives echo as it does the rounds
Dear god why has thou plagued me
These nostrils know all of bionics
A thunder clap of fusion resonated in
Like a storm cloud sped supersonic
(2013)
