deepundergroundpoetry.com

the Customer

the flesh, it falls
crispy rose shaped piles
smelling of burnt cologne
the maggots come
so they can feed on my pieces
what will they do when there's nothing left?
it matters?
nothing left to remember
nothing left to remember with
no sweet release of death
it begins again tomorrow
Written by eelunphetmoore
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0 reading list entries 0
comments 0 reads 585
Commenting Preference: 
The author is looking for friendly feedback.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 11:06am by Vision_of_insanity
POETRY
Today 11:03am by Abracadabra
POETRY
Today 10:59am by Abracadabra
POETRY
Today 8:10am by 13thbluemoon24
COMPETITIONS
Today 3:03am by DamianDeadLove
SPEAKEASY
Today 2:56am by ajay