rapturous I in tall times

rapturous I in tall times
of bleeding bleeding
in shiny halls of no more
I in the but the suddenness
of nights in late spring running
with more hues of green
than eye possibly
can register in rain
chosen for its austerity
among the dying

I was more than a failure
I was a certain ticking
of an inevitability
unplugging all hope
pulling the cap
grinning with skulls
in a frozen smile
I was more than not
more than getting
the last word




Poetry by Bob
Read 560 times
Written on 2015-05-15 at 17:17

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