Content Warning : Do you want to continue?
This poem contains content which some readers may find disturbing.
It is unsuitable for children or anyone who is easily offended.
YES
I am over 18 years old, I have been warned and I still want to read this poem.
I am over 18 years old, I have been warned and I still want to read this poem.
NO
I don't want to read this type of content, take me back to the previous page.
I don't want to read this type of content, take me back to the previous page.
deepundergroundpoetry.com
HOLLOW DAYS
April 7th
# 7
HOLLOW DAYS
Every day feels like Halloween to me
dressing up like Easter bunny rabbits
with bloody baseball bats and bad habits
going down to the pub with my leprechaun friend Phil
and then hopping and bar-hopping
sometimes popping or slipping a pill
looking out in a hollow daze
hoping to find our next kill
I stir up my soul and dip it in chocolate syrup
set it in a heart shaped box with a hole
and hand it with flowers to an empty soul
as the hours devour our power-cocks felt
and our marshmallow peeps melt away
giving thanks on each independence day
for a new deathday and a new birthday
as we drag away and pray for our next prey delivery
ready and tangled and waiting to be mangled
by a diverse universal stranger in the manger
setting her holy holly body under a lit-up fir tree
her flesh wrapping eagerly waiting to be torn free
like life pinata treats for a Dog day pup
with a tinsel town knife ready to open her up
# 7
HOLLOW DAYS
Every day feels like Halloween to me
dressing up like Easter bunny rabbits
with bloody baseball bats and bad habits
going down to the pub with my leprechaun friend Phil
and then hopping and bar-hopping
sometimes popping or slipping a pill
looking out in a hollow daze
hoping to find our next kill
I stir up my soul and dip it in chocolate syrup
set it in a heart shaped box with a hole
and hand it with flowers to an empty soul
as the hours devour our power-cocks felt
and our marshmallow peeps melt away
giving thanks on each independence day
for a new deathday and a new birthday
as we drag away and pray for our next prey delivery
ready and tangled and waiting to be mangled
by a diverse universal stranger in the manger
setting her holy holly body under a lit-up fir tree
her flesh wrapping eagerly waiting to be torn free
like life pinata treats for a Dog day pup
with a tinsel town knife ready to open her up
Published 8th Apr 2018
Author's Note
How the fuck did this end up in easter poems? FUCK that shit
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 2
reads 678
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
8th Apr 2018 6:01am
8th Apr 2018 8:06am
I really never know what you are really trying to say, Dizzzzzzy. Seriously, be more specific, hunny bunny
