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WiltSov Oct 2019
Hush-hush,
a sentience moves the toy
into a mile long corner
where a door greets the jamb

Sulk,
ignore a pointed finger
weigh down exploration of the boy
this theatre will frown

Secrecy,
you knew it all stood still
before that door stood you up
from feeding your mastodons will
WiltSov Aug 2019
Callous had warned me,
I wish somebody had worn me

Malice will bore the free,
wishing they had never kept me

Hide, cold bones
inside the dugout
Hear that crack,
a fallen smile reacts

Pleasure is a wisp,
rotten upon wells fist
Hidden beside you,
ask somebody else

Where are they wearing thin?
WiltSov Aug 2019
Learn of nothing,
bother caution
Enable the abyss-

Earn something,
somber audition
Forward in a midst-

Harbour is a whet allegory
Hell earned is a higher story
Don’t hack your wrists,
slit them gently til worlds spill.
WiltSov Apr 2019
skittish, though warmth in splices
curtsies the cells on my back

sleeping next to hot water,
****** sentences writhe for honey

pull that fingernail from the hammer,
dilettante can be my only pleasure

dictioned through playful scraps,
you’re interpersonally–strangely–kind

a case of baskets, take my brain with you
hum before you rattle thaumaturgy out

remain seated–
critique grandly–
...this perfunctory serf is dead.
WiltSov Apr 2019
Your animals, are all dead
Your scenery, a chasm recycled
Your conclusions, temporary

Your leftovers, aren’t hungry
Your gyms, occupied and empty
Your ***, missionary

Your wealth, poorly sought
Your depth, see the second line
Your groceries, a dollar short of mine

Your plagues, rehearsed til true
Your wage, spent to amuse
Your sage, bottom shelf at the back

Your relationships, are melted buoys
Your complexities, remain toyed
Your mirrors, indifferent

Your fantasies, live on T.V
Your property, a loan that bleeds
Your arguments, sit at the baseline

Your seconds, triumph
Your minutes, tangle
Your hours, stay

Your days, lose sleep
Your weeks, fail to keep
Your months, ask for better permission

All these years...and I’ve boarded up.
WiltSov Apr 2019
salsola kali//

you are moving details
sleek, as a corpulent box
meek, where you wish it lost

thighs burn above the western highways–

s pestifer//

shots of Russian squall
harvest the harrowing ball,
of which you think exists

far away from rolling hills disarmed–

s australis//

barren thoughts are juvenile
you are not beyond approach,
barely brightest green

mice, bighorn sheep, nor pronghorn eat–

s iberica//

whistle from salvations fringes
kick doors of perception,
off thier cataclysmic hinges

where your titles dragged dense bones–

s tragus//

full bodied, the girth of a thousand minds
nine inch nails in an inch of thick
we all feel like being the same

be a spur cutting dust a new name.
WiltSov Apr 2019
the tunic is blown out of proportion
a manifesto of jiltered dialogue–
between expectation and a breath

rolling realms escape lights gesture
a manifestation of curable perfection
in between curious limitation

thumbnail visits,
dirt and desperate grime glow
search the silhouette,
for unclaimed baggage

merge false intellect,
with stakeouts cigarettes
pick a prisoners flesh,
though it were you that is left.
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