Loathing is sour vomit in your throat
That rises up without warning.
It tastes like sweet food
That has long gone rotten
And smells like cold resolve.
It looks like boiling black tar
And feels like burning hot tears.
It sounds like “Excuse me”,
And it growls and tuts and snarls and bites;
Loathing is the monster we fear in the night.
YOU ARE READING
Parts of Me
PoetryWhenever you read one of my poems You hold a part of me, And it hides in my brain or beating heart Now I give it to thee. You may hold this precious Part For a while, at least. So treat it well, respect my thoughts, And there shall be a peace. For i...
