It Was sickening, she thought,
were it to be born, in heaven
even present of God; perhaps
but blankness awaits a child, children who make kids from touch,
eating cream that curdles yet another
and another
Another
until endless cots are filled.
-
Author:
fkoshk (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 28th, 2023 02:52
- Comment from author about the poem: I'm tired, and who knows why, since I slept at least 12 hours last night. Joy.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Offline)
Comments1
You asleep now? Erm, not while reading this, of course! lol.
You'd be surprised how much I sleep all the time, man. Crazy what fatigue does to you, huh?
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.