deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Future Disease
The purring of satisfied guilt,
Wrapped in a morning dew quilt.
The phosphate lining, potency,
Laughing stalk I'll never be.
A drench mimicry, of ugly poison.
The softness of a war begun.
Step off the corpses, dirty feet.
There's life in this empty street.
Metallic taste in our baked bread,
Emptiness that's never dead.
We struggle under our own escape,
We fly away with our invisible cape.
Wrapped in a morning dew quilt.
The phosphate lining, potency,
Laughing stalk I'll never be.
A drench mimicry, of ugly poison.
The softness of a war begun.
Step off the corpses, dirty feet.
There's life in this empty street.
Metallic taste in our baked bread,
Emptiness that's never dead.
We struggle under our own escape,
We fly away with our invisible cape.
Published 5th Mar 2014
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