The Earth's plates cracked
when our rabid bodies
hit the bed of needles.
Mess me up.
Time slows in this vortex
of calculated lust.
Every word handpicked,
idiosyncratic twitches, and
dry mouths full of sin.
Leave me alone, but
don't forget me.
I'm a contradiction.
I've been messed up.
A regretful rest later,
the mirror points and mocks;
her ghost ready to pounce.
Get away,
allow me to work.
I hate being messed up.
- Author: rrivera138 ( Offline)
- Published: February 12th, 2018 20:26
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 44
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.