06-26-2015, 05:06 PM
O muse I pray you fill my barren chest
so I may puff my torso up with wind
and pour a drooping poppy’s strain depressed
before the bloom with heavy head down pinned.
Let owl songs that guide a rusty knife
towards suicide be new endowed in me
so I may use a death to eek a life,
be ripe with a rich green and potpourri,
and hang like a dead note on bathroom walls
that chokes out feces with a harsh perfume.
Like an unpapered sadness in the stall,
let me reign higher than the flushing spume.
I know there’s nothing divine in your light,
but do not suffer me a tail end’s blight.
so I may puff my torso up with wind
and pour a drooping poppy’s strain depressed
before the bloom with heavy head down pinned.
Let owl songs that guide a rusty knife
towards suicide be new endowed in me
so I may use a death to eek a life,
be ripe with a rich green and potpourri,
and hang like a dead note on bathroom walls
that chokes out feces with a harsh perfume.
Like an unpapered sadness in the stall,
let me reign higher than the flushing spume.
I know there’s nothing divine in your light,
but do not suffer me a tail end’s blight.