Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2018
Drank the morning rain and felt it in my chest
Clung, suspended with the fog on my vanity
I have a pencil to my temple,the graphite looks impressed

It sees the twitch in my neck, before you ever spoke with breath like turpentine
All in all the days are just one big joke
-I should be the chummy punchline
Middle Class
Written by
Middle Class
   Fawn and MicMag
Please log in to view and add comments on poems