Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2020
This mind has a rattling call crow scratch maybe rats in fact **** again sounds human help in the crawl
Space
Of the attic above the wall that divides you & me
The bricks are glued together with anxious syrup and possession
In possession we don’t own this space
We named the place (with mere words)
And so how can I complain
That this creature remains
In the crawl space of my brain
I'll go back to sleep
Safe in the thought that if I die
You'll die with me
Written by
Emilia
54
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems