Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Back row torn, penetrated, yet warm Butts and lit butts pressed against it. Circular limbs transport my clients. Curved triangle, scythe, ends the ride. Behind a circle sits the controller, abusing the engine, my heart, me. Each passenger, client, friend, family, hurts, helps, hinders, never ending well. A big metal box recycles me. My corpse gives birth to another, so another controller may ride me. Never ending, since model T, I roll.
0
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
Crown Victoria
Back row torn, penetrated, yet warm Butts and lit butts pressed against it. Circular limbs transport my clients. Curved triangle, scythe, ends the ride. Behind a circle sits the controller, abusing the engine, my heart, me. Each passenger, client, friend, family, hurts, helps, hinders, never ending well. A big metal box recycles me. My corpse gives birth to another, so another controller may ride me. Never ending, since model T, I roll.
genericdisposableartist
Written by
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem