The 2 A.M Writer

Mud Hole

Another sinking baby into the mud

I'm lost in another state of repressed memory

Let the earth muffle my sound and whispers of grief

And let another Jesus bear my blessing when I'm broken

...

Losing in the game for my conscience

Lesser and lesser the drain must pull my urge

Until it becomes submerged under apathetic covers

White pupils and another day lost to myself

...

Somewhere I kick and fidget and scratch

Clawing out of womb

Out of my womb

What's mine is yours

Let me out of your womb

What's yours is never mine

Let me feed without umbilical

...

Crouching

Fetal

Crying

Nestling

I'm back in the Mud Hole

...

Welcome Home

Comments1



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