Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I’m anxious and I can’t keep my summersalt garbage disposal from continuing it’s cycle. Stuck on repeat like the sound of a plum pit caught between the spinning blades, God they look maniacal. It’s more of a grinding kind of clatter, peanut butter hands pitter patter, some things never really matter.
0
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC
Spitfiregirl...
I’m anxious and I can’t keep my summersalt garbage disposal from continuing it’s cycle. Stuck on repeat like the sound of a plum pit caught between the spinning blades, God they look maniacal. It’s more of a grinding kind of clatter, peanut butter hands pitter patter, some things never really matter.
one4u2nv
Written by
American
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem