All begins with D. Fat, deviant,
belly spilling over
the void.
Before seed and fire,
it touches earth.
Out of breath,
stars at fingertips,
thought strives to keep pace
with the restlessness of space.
Sheets cover us with
measures of
inky night
on a bed of white.
The wake of the spoken
leaves me lonesome.
We run from silence's seduction.
It all ends with D. Fat, deviant,
belly fulfilling the end.
2 comments:
I truly am lost on this one. "It all ends with D---fat, voluptual,
Belly hanging over"
Is this an autobiographical poem? I'm so sorry you're this phat. Please don't despair, Vanda found some free diet pills. I'll look up the link for you bonbon. xox PS Oh are you talking about molly here?
This work, as the quote above it hints, is about the loneliness at every beginning. This is especially true with the craft of writing.
Humbly,
Heinrich Teufelsdrockh
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