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Slate pt. II: Tablespoon
Folder:
Extended Poetry Dead is cold and chilled
Isolation in the farthest speck
Out of sound out of sight
Out of malice out of mind
Oh, the maggot of the mother
Peers into the sterile syringe
Scathing beneath the rancid wound
Oh, the maggot of the mile scurrying
To smooth the wound wrinkle
And swallow razorblades
Oh, maggot cold and stale
The sweetest slithered stench
Apple anger rotten
Fallen from the mother loving
Oh, the maggot eats it up
Out of sound out of sight
Out of malice out of mind
Out of care out of comfort
Slate, cold as blizzard death
Frozen to the apple heart
Slate, done as ice
