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| Topic: interminal | |
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gutted-A poem in my THIGH BONE..
knife-mouth,dry mouth the air is funeral air- packed and dead end words going no where.. maybe into a mirror the open mouth of my tunnel is open and saying nothing.. as a cat goes under a car I go under.. under under the air of silvery moon eyes placid pretending shadows brakken eyes wondeful speck ant heads books red lights in a swiftness of motion I stood there falling to the floor slow motion down down down till sleep... |
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so dark,
I know some are gonna really like this one... others might be sorta thrown off... Good work 
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