Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Foul, rotten, something about you gives the stench of burned flesh, the stain of corroding steel, the buzzing sound of a thousand insects. When you talk I feel like centipedes crawl up my spine, roaches swirl between my toes, and worms pour out of ears. My eyes itch, and I twitch underneath my skin for your soul is the foulest din.
0
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
I Don't Know You, and I Don't Want to Know You
Foul, rotten, something about you gives the stench of burned flesh, the stain of corroding steel, the buzzing sound of a thousand insects. When you talk I feel like centipedes crawl up my spine, roaches swirl between my toes, and worms pour out of ears. My eyes itch, and I twitch underneath my skin for your soul is the foulest din.
We've all met someone like this
icouldimagine
Written by
24/London
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem