deepundergroundpoetry.com
Pumped.
Oh, and the sound
the Heart makes, tick,
when each atrium
departs, tock. When
the ventricles
decide it's time
To move on.
Tick --
Makes me sick.
The trick is knowing
when it's gone -
when it's finished -
and waiting for your brain
to make the same familiar
hiss.
Oh, that sound
I'll never miss.
Tick.
the Heart makes, tick,
when each atrium
departs, tock. When
the ventricles
decide it's time
To move on.
Tick --
Makes me sick.
The trick is knowing
when it's gone -
when it's finished -
and waiting for your brain
to make the same familiar
hiss.
Oh, that sound
I'll never miss.
Tick.
Published 26th Jan 2011
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Anonymous
28th Jan 2011 11:31pm
that starts with rhythym that slows and grumbles
to
a
stop.
Great work!
S
to
a
stop.
Great work!
S
1st Feb 2011 00:08am
