she's gasping for
lifelong turmoil
under the spotlights
and cobwebs
into the cavity
into the forlorn mill
by the marshy meadows
a passer-by mumbles
and kids play hopscotch
meanwhile, in cold blood
she has been cynical
and started a hunger strike
when kids kicked all the molehills
tender surrender
to tuneful fragments
of Monday mourn
a pilgrim carried
the burden with legacy
and everyone heard
the coalmine symphony
playing overnight
it was a helter-skelter
a midwinter mirage
scrawled with the dagger
on a corrosive corset
she watched the flamingos
out on a field
when all of a sudden
hordes of the hunchbacked
mannequins stood up
and she was like
what the heck?
About the Creator
Filip Čaja
Pen name: William Greco - writes surreal poetry and short stories that explore the uncanny and hidden sides of life. Mainly inspired by the great surrealists or weird fiction and magical realism authors.
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More stories from Filip Čaja and writers in Poets and other communities.
Whiskey At Dusk
Guess the whiskey was more important to you in the end, wasn’t it? It was more than the well-being of your friends; more vital than showing up to the places you promised you would and could come to; more critical of a matter than fulfilling your damn responsibilities and getting the press off your back.
By Snarky Lisa5 days ago in Humans
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