Oak

sometimes surgeons like to kidSometimes I cannot sleep. Earthquakes burrow into sheet fibres,sometimes surgeons like to kid
knees meet the radiator, the chunks clunk
then chip away, like the roller coaster thoughts
that spin around the room.
My head smacks pillows, and I remember
all the faces I scanned today,
up/down; they sighed boredom -- and had eyeballs where mattresses should be.
Fingertips feel sore, they say sorry for touching you. I only wanted to see
what your heart felt like on the inside but these hands did not belong blood-drenched in you. Right then I decided -- I will never go to the denti
--
For all the things in art, photography and graphic design.
~Back-W-Art
--
(Dude, that last post was funky...)
--
a mysterious link
why did you delete your other poems?
if you would, could you please tell me how many that there were? (including these last two)
please?
--
jump into the void empty handed
--
a mysterious link
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