Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
My first inclination is to write about rifles and *** and ankle socks with frills around the top, but I do not know anything about that – much less all three at once. One time I had a dream, or nightmare, or fantasy of getting ****** by the barrel of the gun. Instead of bullets, glowsticks entered me. Guns are shooting stars, like ***** I have to steal cartons of iced coffee to stay awake and bend the caps into heart-shapes to have any hope – morning wood puts me in mourning, that is all I can ever understand about myself.
0
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 6:17 PM UTC
writer's block
My first inclination is to write about rifles and *** and ankle socks with frills around the top, but I do not know anything about that – much less all three at once. One time I had a dream, or nightmare, or fantasy of getting ****** by the barrel of the gun. Instead of bullets, glowsticks entered me. Guns are shooting stars, like ***** I have to steal cartons of iced coffee to stay awake and bend the caps into heart-shapes to have any hope – morning wood puts me in mourning, that is all I can ever understand about myself.
sarina
Written by
American
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 6:17 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem