The Beast Poem by Brian Routh
The Beast
Rating: ★5.0
The endless games
the pointlessness of worlds
the strivings of egos and vanities
the desparation of permanence to fix itself
in time and space
hands are around my throat from the inside
the beast is inside me
I am no longer myself
I am everything good and bad
solid and fluid
actual
imagined
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Topic(s) of this poem: games
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8/28/2026 6:49:02 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
