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Michael Marchese
Poems
Jun 16
Cold Dead Hands
Take it
Wrest it
Rip it
From the clutches
Of my claims
When they are splayed
And splattered
Matters
Of my brainless
Bullet aims
Still fixing
Barrels
To the temples
Self-imposing
Isolation
Making wars
And civil wastelands
Of the isolated nation
Written by
Michael Marchese
30/M/California
(30/M/California)
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Aladdin Aures H
,
The Wilted Witch
,
Not a poet Just struggling
,
Dency
and
bleedingink
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