Slurping down air, a mutt thirsting like stomach-to-spine hunger, it is there
In the delirious mind-dream, distracting decorations drape down, down, down, it is there
In the lighthead elevation, a stone in the gut and gullet or gizzard, it is there
Not a blackness or a brightness, a smog of neutered neutrality, it is there
But in these words? It isn't there
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It Isn't Here - A Poem
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- Dreamer
- Posts: 19
- Joined: Thu Feb 25, 2016 2:13 am