Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2015
the gods spoke to me
from the depths of my
shower drain.

choking on
old soap and
blood,

their echoed whispers
soaked my hair
and stained my skin

seeping beneath
the cloudy film of
my ever weary eyes.
Written by
baby bukowski  nowhere in particular
(nowhere in particular)   
305
   GaryFairy and Gudden
Please log in to view and add comments on poems