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Trade. [incomplete]

Wrapping sheets of foil around our heads,
around the heads of the ones you called home.
The ones you let sleep in the cavities you built,
propped up with their feet dipped in your bloodstream,
across skin stained with blood you never spilled.


Author notes

I'm too tired to finish tonight...

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    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
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Comments


  • Nuclear
    April 24
    Edit | Reply
    completecompletecomplete!


  • Nuclear
    April 15
    Edit | Reply
    Pieces of this sound familiar. I like it.

    Tell me when you finish it. =]