Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

addicts do change


Names, more names, never ancient
protection from one's self, to wash.
In-blur to roam, wordless in eruptions
dawn, left on yesterdays new stain.
Journey of familiarly, scooping out
bowls previously uneaten, fresh was
the fruit, now stale, face now dull, eyed from
gluttony's bloated hand, inside still unfed.
Addicts can change, yet still you eat the young.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 28, 2009

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