deepundergroundpoetry.com

days nowadays

i go to work
i do a job
i come home;

i take a bath, or i don't
wallow in filth, or take care of my skin?
doesn't seem to matter

unwashing-
that's a man's poem
there's enough of them
big, sighing, lumbering
put upon poems
layered under stoicism
and the shape of calloused fists

don't mind me
taping electrodes on my head
to rewire my insides
when anxiety creeps in
like a letter on the doormat

dont mind me screaming to myself
while the tub fills with aromatic water

drifting into the sleep of a waterfall
that promises me health and success by morning

i'll write something about the bloody fucking blood moon

anna_grin
Written by anna_grin (grin)
Published
Author's Note
i feel about this writing exactly the way it sounds like i feel
perhaps there's no point in putting it out there for a reader. i'm just releasing it, like a spider i could have probably squashed...
i feel about this writing exactly the way it sounds like i feel
perhaps there's no point in putting it out there for a reader. i'm just releasing it, like a spider i could have probably squashed without much consequence
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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