deepundergroundpoetry.com
BRIDLE
Skid in your own blood dancing
On the spit of your last commendation
Skip as if you were nothing
To the moon of your own creation
Sucked on the breasts of pigs
Tempered by the soil of loss
Roused on the kisses of whores
You rose with the leap of a horse.
Out of a stable called body
A bridle left in tatters
A cradle of hapless dust
Where nothing really matters
On the spit of your last commendation
Skip as if you were nothing
To the moon of your own creation
Sucked on the breasts of pigs
Tempered by the soil of loss
Roused on the kisses of whores
You rose with the leap of a horse.
Out of a stable called body
A bridle left in tatters
A cradle of hapless dust
Where nothing really matters
Published 22nd Dec 2013
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The author encourages honest critique.
Anonymous
22nd Dec 2013 8:30pm
interesting and mysterious or that's how i read it sorry if im being a idiot again
2nd Jan 2014 6:15pm
Hey, Su Intent the best of us are idiots how else can you deal with a world full of fools - keep rolling
Anonymous
25th Dec 2013 10:17am
Sounds like black magic....
Like the "evil twist" in this
Like the "evil twist" in this
25th Dec 2013 11:40pm
