spake directly to the skull


6/13/18 10:43PM


the tar is endless

when the dinner is gone

none of the burbs

with their twisted words

can undo what’s been done


there are fossils under here

and floating beneath the cracks

are the skins of birds

and the ghost of david byrne

just eating away at tongues


I see this lake a crumpled mess

with fluorescent whisps 

and a dead end of curbs

but it’s better out here

where the wind is queer

and always eats its tums


that’s not where I lie

with spines or lungs

and long dead thumbs

keep recording my verve

why’s the camera so glum?


a filtered life

without her strife

will end up on stacks of none

  • Author: Big Swifty (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: June 13th, 2018 21:54
  • Comment from author about the poem: sonnets are for chumps
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 22


  • minak

    love this

    • Abora

      thanks minak

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