I’m a few poems behind, but here’s my latest offering for National Poetry Writing Month:
Up, Over, and Beyond
A light flickers
pens run out of ink
no more pardons
he’s too dazed to think
it wasn’t supposed to be like this
he sports black tats on his body
but wears pink socks in defiance
hands involuntarily balled into fists
hello blue hell
regrets are fading as he convulses silently
he puckers his lips and waits for death’s kiss
veins pumped with golden poison
it really wasn’t supposed to be like this.
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