Tags » Poetry

Cliché 

What – everybody asks

at some point in time –

is the purpose of it all?

The universal question

Defies language

Defies location

Who do they ask? 98 more words

Poetry

empty (1)

there is a hole in my stomach

that I dig myself

with scooping hands

shaped with inattention

but I do this absently

like snoring in sleep… 75 more words

Poetry