Smoke until paranoia
waltzes between corners.
Sleep never visits anymore
and exhaustion hasn't left,
it appears to be too much.
Lust left on its terms,
but its fingerprints linger.
Joy stole the front door mat
and was never heard of again.- Blood Stains on My Bedroom Door
YOU ARE READING
Bodies in My Closet
PoetryAnother attempt, perhaps another failure. no. 1 #spilledink 11.05.2024 no. 1 #unloving 11.05.2024