"maddery" poems
Exits the friendly
From sun circled centre
Where no wispy 'membrance,
though 'tis what we're made of,
dost tangle in beaches or camp grounds.
Forgetting is lonely
in mustard seed corners
though lonely has purpose,
if purpose is stardom,
when taken in two over doses.
Chopping aortas
from hair raisèd partners
and sewing mine own onto
maddery night times
where blood is awaited and tha-thumping rythms exchange their romances thu-thampingly.
Grasping at cries,
and at nights overlapping.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC