Three irises to a pupil
Eight eyes to a socket
Two tongues to each mouth
4 minds to each skull
15 ears inside esophagus
skin made of hair
and hair made of skin
in a cave made of mud
and blood
grit-spit-secreted salivations
spinal fluid
corpses piled high
to the point where you aren’t sure
if they’re in- or are the sky
half past a feeding
And a quarter till hibernation
Livers lace the pulsating wart ridden hovel
This is the anxiety of my mind- personified
Oscar Arnold 6fl1n3P
4 years ago
1 comment:
yessir so i definitely like the sounds of this poem and the rather morbid images and also lines like "if they're in- or are the sky"
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