your eyes are like a trex because we can never know what they really look like
your voice is as soft as a fetus fart because we have never heard it
your heart is probably pumping and bloody because you must be alive
your hands are probably soft maybe, idk
you are perfect.
The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at it's eve;
Sunset’s at seven;
Budding leaves come unfurled;
The owl’s on the wing;
The sun takes it's leave;
Joeclark’s in his heaven—
All’s right with the world!
JoeClark, your eyes are
your eyes are like a trex because we can never know what they really look like
your voice is as soft as a fetus fart because we have never heard it
your heart is probably pumping and bloody because you must be alive
your hands are probably soft maybe, idk
you are perfect.
a beautiful poem in
[sleepyhead]
joeclark is love, joeclark is
sweet joeclark we have
we have converted to a religion in your name
everything is no longer, everything is now joeclarkian
and your buns are mighty toasty
see you another,
dina
#RememberJoeClark
JerClerk your smile is so
JoeClark's in his Heaven.
joeclark i like the way you
you smother titan's face
he is dead now, long cold
but everything's right in the world
because joeclark's in his heaven
POETRY,
by gary
The year’s at the spring, And
And day’s at it's eve;
Sunset’s at seven;
Budding leaves come unfurled;
The owl’s on the wing;
The sun takes it's leave;
Joeclark’s in his heaven—
All’s right with the world!
LOVEYOUJOE