top of page
  • Writer's pictureTweakUnique

Nate B

We met conversing at music night, we settled on a certain facet: The story of my health improvement… from nothing short of Magic.

Our gatherings would soon diversify into a game where we carefully miss. And all our aim and concerted tries are thrown by hand with discs.

It’s lucky that I met this dreaded guy. It’s almost like he fell in by fate. With that poofy hair on your stoop. I see you all the time, Nate.

And yet again we have a mutual hobby. The blur of the hacky sack in the air. Round house kicks and scorpion whips. Watch the jump snap of the Blair!

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


It's been a while since I posted a poem. So much irritation subdued in frustration. The creative bell rings less often when these distractions soften the blows to vibration and stifled timing. Here I

bottom of page