Poem Flurry Two

We'd go on poem flurries

driven by demons of gray desire 

expressing our human thoughts and feelings

as sugary candies way past their expiration dates

neath a liquor store's cash register counter

'Tis an old art form, the sonnet

Shakespeare pushes quill to poor quality paper

while we mash the keys of computer metal

yet the end goal remains clear and unchanged

release a caged word before falling asunder