o holy nightmares

walden freemanwalden freeman Posts: 511
edited April 2008 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
time has ticked
and ticked off bombs
crickets outside sleep through their alarms
the pots take shots
at the pans that burn my hands
and i can't forget you

but time wastes
a waist-high puddle
of saliva from mouths with poor taste
leads the lead poisons
through all of my veins
and i won't forgive you
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