She had these little cups
of coffee for eyes, and I
should have stayed up
all night.
Love is a drunk whore.
A lie from Saturn.
Venus, slither back in the
ocean where you belong.
Loneliness is a knife cutting
my balls off.
Knowledge arrived with an
alarm clock from hell,
always the wrong fucking
time. Slammed doors, words
of hatred.
What happens to the man that
inherits the wind?
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 23rd, 2025 16:56
- Comment from author about the poem: I read my poetry on my YouTube channel to promote my new book, Sleep Always Calls, available on Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/Sleep-Always-Calls-Thomas-Case/dp/B0F7FS5DQB/ref=sr_ www.thomaswcase.com
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: RSM0812
Offline)
Comments6
Once again a most gritty poem with plain talk of life. Lovely
Thank you.
The title and the last line really hit, Tom. Great work.
Thanks
Powerful, raw tale of life enjoyed the read
Thank you.
You are very welcome
Truthful and stirring, Thomas 🕊️🙏🏻
I appreciate it.
Most welcome 🙏🏻🕊️
There seems to be a whole Novel in just those few lines . Good One.
Much appreciated.
I really like the last line. My answer is forgotten.
Thanks.
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