Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2016
every blue moon i show up
go into every room,
leaving messes,
eventually giving into sleep

i rise out of the couch
clawing my way (through) (out of) knitted blankets
pull(ing) the debris off my body
(and) feel my blood return(ing) to me
Written by
Keenon Brice  Baltimore
(Baltimore)   
197
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems