WHEN you have killed the living thing inside
your Skull spend nights within my Mouth
Speak tales of ancient knowledge
upon a spinning fallen leaf drifting
down youth’s river
And press my tongue against your broken
heart, lift my legs across your shoulders
as a wet nurse, tell me this is but a dream
while our spit dries upon skin.
:: 08.16.2024 ::
About EPRobles
Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love...
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