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| 12/20/2018 11:38:00 AM |
All this talk through a mine
of kid gloves and landmines went underground.
You were catching my limbs
in sequels and spoofs, commemoration my organs
with friends lost, whose names like patients names.
Our clumped appetite stirs and how
when unwound, as with DNA, it sweetly wounds us.
Security in the propriety responsibility, you said, is count misplaced
or no hope at all. But I nearly, in my dreams I vision,
in my dreams I do not hope.
Where were you when was I? Counting down
the decades for the gain as sacrificial lamb of our whilom war.
|
 reelgame1111@outlook.kr
 https://reelgame.ml
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