deepundergroundpoetry.com

Flip.

Fishing line lost in the parade of bottomless souls seeks a moment of justice for the almighty box with no door.

Why, how, reason....it doesnt matter -

2 for 1 and 1 for all, 3 reasons make none.

Discomfort spells your name wrong on the alter of days gone by.

Ivory robes dance meaningless praise into thin callous air filled with the stence of cheap perfume.

Hands to the sky, you coward.

Preach to me- do as im told...


mental rape for a buck.

Wicker stained in the blood of guilt, you nasty mere human.

Sunshine
Blue water
Wind
Snow
Rain
Green grass

Mother nature is the backwards (dog)

Look around its right there...behind you.







Written by nottoday
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