Stuck in a puppet going down
Plummet to the ground with splattering sound
Damn again
Rigor-mortis soundless no movement,
Silently dripping vivaciously coagulating
Innards hugging a silhouette of a whispering shadow
When patience's gales past
I grab a needle and shove it the crescent appointed between the joints in my phalanges
No thoughts escapes me,
As the sounds of my blood in my veins dries out
Why have you failed me?
Reproducing this continues orbit of a home field cadence
Can't really stay this
I am the second son no intended pun as the spluttering of my end digits repeatedly type out the manic drifts of the pitter patter of computer keyboards keys goes tictactictac
No help Whap! goes the hammer over disgraced grammar how can I say this politely
I'm done
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Deprivations of Mass Accumulation
PoetryA series of short funny and serious rhythms But be warned My poems are not for the weak of heart They will tear down the very fabrics of time. Or so I say I shall post every other day.
