Whispers In The Wall Poem by chris bowen

the box it dropped.the carpet shocked.your shoe sticks to goo closely related to blood.all is good in the good wood.somebody done killed and caved a head.somebody done be dead.dont wed a force, its a routine.dont seem so mean inside of me.i gotta die to try to love the reflection in my eye.i gotta buy junk to get trunks to over funk.its the luck of the draw the irish saw.its the doll without a head that will wind up dead.