Purity & Fear
Homage to a Humument pt 3/3
I do not listen
I hear only
I see you, touch you,
I have fear.
At night I become excited
nights are impure
polish them.
Desire.
Perhaps one day
otherwise this purity
it leaves no trace.
Leave me.
You will not find me.
Disclaimer: This poem is a "creation by destruction" or, particularly, redaction. Inspired by the work of Tom Phillips this set of 3 poems were created using discarded loose pages of damaged and discarded library novels. Between 60-80% of the original text was redacted to create a new poem. Original sources are unknown.
About the Creator
Amos Glade
Welcome to Pteetneet City & my World of Weird. Here you'll find stories of the bizarre, horror, & magic realism as well as a steaming pile of poetry. Thank you for reading.
For more madness check out my website: https://www.amosglade.com/
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