The despiar that whorls inside the gut
that regurgitates, that vomits,
that knits a tightly woven rut
that shows the gap but not the comet,
that tore the black hole in me
the void and all that spills from it
all that spills inside itself
that dirty, slutted promise
whispering it's fear to me
it's gift to me is solice.
And all that has been ended
is with in me, for I'm the end
a pain to be be-friended
an ache for me to lend.
A contest entry
- Your oldest prewrite poems and my 20th contest by stargazer..
650 points, ended April 20, 417 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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Comments
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Woah powerful dark words dear poet the reader feels the pain and turmoil eggcellent write
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