deepundergroundpoetry.com
Graves on Tap
Graves on tap, like pilsner, swallowing. Finding
myself a suitor attracting my nosegay of gothic
decadency of the classical romantics poach
the flesh of a three-minute interlude. Listening
to the withers of a cello walking among the stones
with words, my mama sang to me when I was
an embryo of graves on tap. Now, just a shadow of
shelled peanuts.
myself a suitor attracting my nosegay of gothic
decadency of the classical romantics poach
the flesh of a three-minute interlude. Listening
to the withers of a cello walking among the stones
with words, my mama sang to me when I was
an embryo of graves on tap. Now, just a shadow of
shelled peanuts.
Published 17th Oct 2024
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17th Oct 2024 1:42pm
I truly enjoyed reading this piece of darkness thoughts for we all just a stone away from our own grave site of stone 🪨 nicely done great mystery writing skills 👍💪✍️
17th Oct 2024 1:45pm
17th Oct 2024 2:01pm
17th Oct 2024 4:25pm
17th Oct 2024 5:26pm
