Lull - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA

time is a lullaby
the being inside a being
is like a baby inside a cradle
of the arms of a mother
inside is inside and further is another further
somehow when farther goes farther
there is more to become
rather than find an exit and then enter
another door and close it and live there
and then bone after bone
you take away what is left of
the self after the flesh is consumed
by another hungry flesh.
there is a lull in boredom
there is a escape that longs for
another greater escape.
i know you're tired listening to this
but does it really matter?

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, May 1, 2010

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