Morphing Verse

I try to write poems.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Often an encounter
feels as if my spine
is vice-gripped
between a pair
of scissor blades
and my intestines
bulge--

how does he look
or mean, inside

--like the sponge
of an incised
cocoon,
and I neither feel nor look
very human.
Posted by Peripheral at 7:28 PM
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