There are carcasses around me,
Whose pants are torn, and eyes are bright,
Who walk with limps, and heads held high.
Silent in their steps,
They pass each other.
Each of their lips, stitched with threads,
Black ones that spiral in and out of their mouths.

I stare at one,
And he gazes back at me,
Dark pools of red, and a smile on his face.
Silent still, he walks past me,
And when a little away,
We laugh at each other’s hypocrisy-
It is bright daylight,
But there are carcasses around me.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


This entry was posted on 04/06/2017 by in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , .
%d bloggers like this: