Poems from kablitz55
“Prostitution is not a failsafe career,” she says, and
I know she’s trying to sound worried but all that emanates from
Those twin lines...
Helpless gestures have never felt so foreign.
Musty motel rooms have never felt less like home.
There’s a creator in your midst, and
His...
Neon saliva crusts the sad corners of your eyes
You rub it from your lashes in the morning upon revival
And search for it for the rest of...
It’s a squirrel’s crushed skull
That makes mulch of my speech and thought
They grow mushrooms in the back of the throat
And send spiraling...
This no-man’s land,
It’s habit now;
You drink it in,
You take a bow.
Posturing silence
A word then a pause;
Applause!