deepundergroundpoetry.com
Leeches
Like leeches in skin,
I feel you.
With earth, gin, and sin,
I fill you.
Sordid seas call me hence.
Pebbles of old stained glass;
something in them sears the skin,
with no sense,
no recompense.
I feel you.
With earth, gin, and sin,
I fill you.
Sordid seas call me hence.
Pebbles of old stained glass;
something in them sears the skin,
with no sense,
no recompense.
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