deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Hunger
You ask, “Why does this not kill me?”
I reply, “Consider nightfall;
why does it suffer so a peaceful birth,
day illume nothing into terminal crisis,
Steel to it’s confederate ideal.”
How wise were they whose stage lay them down into water,
Into madness immortal
Who saw what little of life they could
Arranged here, in corners
over rounds of epical war.
I reply, “Consider nightfall;
why does it suffer so a peaceful birth,
day illume nothing into terminal crisis,
Steel to it’s confederate ideal.”
How wise were they whose stage lay them down into water,
Into madness immortal
Who saw what little of life they could
Arranged here, in corners
over rounds of epical war.
Published 14th Oct 2015
| Edited 18th Oct 2015
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14th Oct 2015 10:12pm
