deepundergroundpoetry.com

full of empty

 


the world is not
interesting,
it sits like a bowl
of dried figs on
a table

conversations
dull as potting
soil

the apple of the
mind is hollow,
the worm of thought
can find no sustenance
and dies

we care not for brethren
nor ant and are as sloppy
on the inside as some
tasteless dirty joke
scrawled on a
bathroom
stall

we have been spat
from the mouth
of God onto
the muddy
earth

let the flames have
their way

let the carrion order
take out

let the wronged
wander the corridors
of hell

this siege is
over

go home

there is nothing
here left to
see

 
Written by buddhakitty
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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