If a gadget turns
you on, and I cannot
listen the voiceless
music, how would
we meet in parasynthesis?
A parakeet lifts the long
tail to climb on―
the grill to watch the
sweep of clouds, whistling
past, when the world
was mud-splattered.
Take my hand and hold
the queer. I was never me
in the maddening crowd.
I listen to only my body.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: July 30th, 2018 20:38
- Category: Nature
- Views: 25
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments2
And I listen to your complexity of love and fear combining in your writing. Your brave expression about being queer touches upon my heart because I have my tendencies to indulge with whatever I what and feel the need to do. I like your words here. They lean up against each other with life and it's passions. Great work.
Excellent!
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