Mote - Hello Poetry

Mote 2h

Untitled

i’m sick.

fear replaces clarity with clarity. lost poems.

lost poets.

Mote Apr 19

dust

had our timelines not converged
think of the god
i'd have been fed to

Mote Apr 15

Untitled

i don't need god, i tell god.
i need a surgeon and money.

Mote Apr 10

(the heavy terror of haunted light)

god says, look.
like an ant in my kitchen,

you were born
the moment i noticed you.

Mote Apr 9

Untitled

the hand of hurt
has long fingers
and sharp nails

Mote Apr 5

Untitled

it's morning in the morning after city.
i am hunted, all night, through suburbia.
i won't lie.
it's my favorite dream.
there are no safe places to prey

Mote Mar 31

flint gothic

they still plant flowers
in my blighted mouth