deepundergroundpoetry.com
Homeward Bound
I feel like my steps
are sending me backwards
weightless
sinking into the ground, because I
simply do not, exist.
That smooth valley
between by shoulder blades is
punctured,
and bleeds.
as you pull that puppet string.
I wish you would stop to think:
"what if we were not written,
in ink?"
are sending me backwards
weightless
sinking into the ground, because I
simply do not, exist.
That smooth valley
between by shoulder blades is
punctured,
and bleeds.
as you pull that puppet string.
I wish you would stop to think:
"what if we were not written,
in ink?"
Published 1st Jul 2013
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