there's an alien inside you,
gnawing on the tinsel and the ticket stubs
of forgotten soirees.
it weeps in the basement
of your third
floor.
it pounds on the pipes of madness
and stomps
it's tentacles
behind your dreams,
where your eyes
believe in
God.
and everything
stings.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
there's an alien inside you,
gnawing on the tinsel and the ticket stubs
of forgotten soirees.
it weeps in the basement
of your third
floor.
it pounds on the pipes of madness
and stomps
it's tentacles
behind your dreams,
where your eyes
believe in
God.
and everything
stings.
Request permission to use this poem