feverish--
pounding
aching
existence.
--philosophy?
in the toilet
mixed with slimy bits of idyll
--faith?
coughed up, spat out
decaying in some fuck's front yard
but--
the light
of painful realization
only strikes
in
weakness
desperation
clinging to a piss-stained corner
naked, coughing up blood
the light
only comes as a sneer
from death
oh no--
you're not done yet, fucker
not by a long shot!
...and all you want to do is sleep.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Wonderful poem you have penned. Full of honesty. It is hard to forget all the crap of the day, when all you want to do is go to sleep. I know the feeling well. Great imagery!! You take care. Sandy
-
Oh, Toad.
Adding your comment:
