These deflated eyeballs crave some fresh air.
Millions of sharp an' teeny-tiny needles piercing their orbits,
The Antarctic and the Arctic deserts on the face
Of it, inevitably lost cause. No phase detection, completely unfocused,
Dry-iced, unbreathable place, time, space.
A whisper: "give me a break,"
For god's sake, bon sang! Song sung. Damn done.
What would my paredros say?
Who is my paredros, anyways?
About the Creator
Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (6)
Nice o read
Okay, that took a turn. Great poem
Good to see you back buddy! This was a bit Opaque for me this morning. Are they bombs.. hope you are travelling well. Sorry I’ve not been much in contact. Just not on here a lot and still working through my crazy. 😊 👍
I have no idea. Do I want to know who your paredros is?
🌷
My hubby loves apples♦️♦️♦️