Sad Labels:
introspect
,
sex
,
verse
And then
everything was quiet.
The ceiling crashed
into the floor.
With a bulimic cough.
Angular and anemic.
The caviar of so many hearts.
Dead things
served on crackers.
Their only flavor
in how much they cost.
He was a priest.
And a comedian.
And everything else
all people are.
I was a child.
And a poet.
And everything
I've always been
since the day
that I was born.
We were laying there
in a sea of skin.
Like the strangers we were.
When the door opened
and the walls
all decided to fall.
And everything
was quiet again.
This is such a good poem xx
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