Macrocosm - Poem by Sam Howard
The macrocosm has come to rest upon my chest
I’ll empty pots of bloods for this
Like milk inside the eyes of babes
I nourish you as you feast.
There is art and there is not
There are things that I have made.
Here are the children of my cum,
The ones that carry my smell on their breath.
They wait to devour me,
Their youth is strength.
During a game they will realize
My throat is paper thin.
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