Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Anxious Poem

Loudly I waited afraid of the kill
No doctor saved me and no doctor will
The cross eyes and fat thighs and wet sighs and red
Everything's thoroughly hollowly dead
All the cracked children's books and the nights in my head
All are thoroughly sleeplessly recklessly dead
The Ovaltine covered with dust in a shed
It's all coated and bloated and breathlessly dead.

No comments:

Post a Comment