deepundergroundpoetry.com

Crunching the pill

I don't want your poverty,  
feeding like a fly, trapped  
inside a forgotten bait box.  
Wet winged beneath a wheely bin-lid,  
a thing that only knows to crawl.  

I want to suckle on sleep's juice,  
slither into the puncture wound
and spread inside myself.
Written by Razzerleaf
Published | Edited 7th Jan 2020
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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