late night boredom lnb

Rites Of Procession - Poem by late night boredom lnb

Whimpy short breaths
wishes of friction
warming and pale,
parade down your chest.

The monks of our moaning,
quiet in worship,
in reverent robes
search for the sacred.

Onto your belly
they join in a circle
and mark holy runes
that burn in the night.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Poem Edited: Saturday, April 23, 2011

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