Submissions by Conflict
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
You'll eat my vomit. You'll love it or wretch.
When I was a boy...
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Curdled mass.
How has it come to this? I can no longer trust in the wheaties,
every other item might also segway into diabeaties. Or was it
diabeetus? Sweet god look at what they try and feed us. Corn
fed like uncle cleetus, are we all gonna let syurp defeat us?
Perhaps you seek the bovine divine looking for your cut
packed and wrapped meaty dividend. Wonder how far into
your colon you can pack it in? Maybe your heart will be
retrofitted with functional tin, all good until it breaks down
again.
Not to worry though I think theres a vaccine for that, run ...
every other item might also segway into diabeaties. Or was it
diabeetus? Sweet god look at what they try and feed us. Corn
fed like uncle cleetus, are we all gonna let syurp defeat us?
Perhaps you seek the bovine divine looking for your cut
packed and wrapped meaty dividend. Wonder how far into
your colon you can pack it in? Maybe your heart will be
retrofitted with functional tin, all good until it breaks down
again.
Not to worry though I think theres a vaccine for that, run ...
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Stomp on my gray.
Society
is difficult to define, emaciated framework by design, they think that
my fork doesn't need any tines. When I try to uplift myself, they use
their god-tool human soul machining apparatus. Intervening, screening,
and demeaning my every waking thought, preening my brain wrinkles to
make them smooth and taut.
is difficult to define, emaciated framework by design, they think that
my fork doesn't need any tines. When I try to uplift myself, they use
their god-tool human soul machining apparatus. Intervening, screening,
and demeaning my every waking thought, preening my brain wrinkles to
make them smooth and taut.
669 reads
1 Comment
Skid.
Fresh flesh fine figments fractal fiercely, freedom from the whole.
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DU Poetry : Submissions by Conflict
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