"triffle" poems
Ever been inspired beyond words?
Awed by the sunlight?
Licked delicately by the rain?
Breathed in deeply the sour green of the grass?
Ever plunged your fingers deep into a bin of beans?
Ran your fingers through hay?
Cried out under the stars?
Laughed at the wrong moment?
Or released with the wrong lover?
You are every ***** little tantalizing feeling ever.
You are the tingle deep in my bones.
You are burning me from the inside and I was naive enough to try and banish you with antacids.
You are that addictive feeling and I'm not sure that I can rid you
Or that I want to
We are a nasty little triffle
Yang and yang
We are the wrong side of the bed
We are Fire and air
We are poison
We are detriment
We are bound
I am bound
I am happy
You are my devil
You are sin
And I am your sin eater
And I will eat
And eat
And eat
Until we are both clean
Of each other
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 7:14 PM UTC
Earnest is not a surname.
It's a deep rooted feeling
that's vein like
in its underscore.
How many times can it grap you
triffle with your cares;
berate you for thinking sorry,
often for a circumstance not of your own making.
Earnest can't stop one worrying
it prides itself on efficient woe
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 5:22 PM UTC