deepundergroundpoetry.com
under the scyamore tree
if i weren't
already dead,
i may attempt
to dig
my way out
of this tomb,
this too little
dirt covered
hotel room,
no charges,
no room service,
no checkout times,
at least
my bed
is always made,
but no one
leaves chocolate
on my pillow.
already dead,
i may attempt
to dig
my way out
of this tomb,
this too little
dirt covered
hotel room,
no charges,
no room service,
no checkout times,
at least
my bed
is always made,
but no one
leaves chocolate
on my pillow.
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