deepundergroundpoetry.com
Jars of Polyester
I am sorrowful that the screen has dimmed to fabric and the hushed scrape of empty north winds. Where his tightened jaw muscles squealed the lectures of blood beats, now is covalent bonds, salt grains, paranoia, burning bristles, cold car seats, tedious cravings...
Our creamy bodies sit in case files and sarcophagi, sipping our dinner, burning hides of accompaniments strapped to our bond.
Our creamy bodies sit in case files and sarcophagi, sipping our dinner, burning hides of accompaniments strapped to our bond.
Published 5th Feb 2021
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Anonymous
5th Feb 2021 11:57am
It reads as though the passion for living has been removed through a drinking straw inserted in one's coronary artery. Reeks of purposelessness.
5th Feb 2021 12:29pm
My uncouth and severely untrained mind's eye goes right to a Texas chainsaw massacre like dinner table where there are horrors sitting all around the victim as she awakens... and she's slowly taking it all in. Yes, I AM that literal....(and a little strange) Then I think, it's possibly like the rest of us, being sooo tired of the quarantining / lockdowns.... and this lethargy that feels like it can consume you whole.... I dunno, I'm shite at criticism, Randon... just my 2cents. ;)
I enjoy the trek through the poem, very much.
It's some of my favorite reading and pondering.
Ty for sharing...
(and pardon my silly takeaways... lmao!)
in kindness,
xo
-B
I enjoy the trek through the poem, very much.
It's some of my favorite reading and pondering.
Ty for sharing...
(and pardon my silly takeaways... lmao!)
in kindness,
xo
-B
5th Feb 2021 1:45pm
6th Feb 2021 9:55am
