Singing Darkness

satishverma

In hirsute adolescence
a narcissist climbs
the breast and becomes
a graveyard of moons.

Talking of marginality,
a hole in the chest
ejects a secret of peachy skin
when wind was selling sex.

Most corrupt was me
always telling truth about the
warm eggs of chaotic legs
who will not climb down the street.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 26th, 2015 22:37
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 10
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry and subscribe to My Poetic Side ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors Weekly news



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.