deepundergroundpoetry.com
whole
I feel acrylic with flaky fingers,
no more than a paint chip waiting to be picked at.
Trash stained glass make up my interior
like a dissembled church window thrown away to rot.
That's when I remember it was a good idea to handcuff myself
in a room where no one could get to me.
I like when when things become more than figurative,
it makes me feel whole.
no more than a paint chip waiting to be picked at.
Trash stained glass make up my interior
like a dissembled church window thrown away to rot.
That's when I remember it was a good idea to handcuff myself
in a room where no one could get to me.
I like when when things become more than figurative,
it makes me feel whole.
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