Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 27
what are we


floating

in

air

full

of

empty space


grasping at each others hands
hoping for
for a small touch
to move the hair on our spines

trembling to stand
daring to
to walk away
afraid to die
alone.



we are worms

sightless soundless
sensual

alone.

rubbing fingers together
hoping to
conjure control

we made fire and what else?
endless boxes to isolate in
obsessive walls
invented power
aeons of escaping
our simple claws

our feeble knees

bend

and straighten


our spinal fur

curls

and straightens


when our hands


touch other hands.





Holding anything


but empty space.
Contemplation from the bunker. R U safe?
The disease was already inside us. It was loneliness.
Orion Schwalm
Written by
Orion Schwalm  26/Nevada City, CA
(26/Nevada City, CA)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems