Thursday 8 March 2012

Mountebank

my innards
laid out, divined,
bloodless cold tripe
that cast no insight
on your or my plight
these maladroit
broadcasts naught
but considered shite

drama of the here and now
in as many acts
as you can swallow
just breathless gasping
in the vacuum-packed plastic
of this necrotic head

No comments:

Post a Comment