Poem - To The Corpse
to
the corpse
the omnipresent
orange
spits
theirs
suffers
whatever
carves
to
the brooding
record
it
sleeps
outside
the pill
the corpse
the omnipresent
orange
spits
theirs
suffers
whatever
carves
to
the brooding
record
it
sleeps
outside
the pill
Comments
Post a Comment