I'M Not Fond Of Names Poem by Sam Howard
I'M Not Fond Of Names
i am so tired
that my atoms have let go
of their orbits
now my aura has
sagged,
like lies always do.
God is laughing in a boiler room,
a roach burning his lips,
he has stretched his break
three millenia too long
and the bossman is pissed.
I'm riding an ant
thru the desert of chance
when i find you in a grain
and swallow all your pain.
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4/26/2024 5:28:19 PM # 1.0.0.1119
FANTASTIC imagination, who could ride an ant. thanks for sharing.md