the silhouette of my profile is full of things
i love.
full of endless vinyl records and wooden pallets smudged with dried paint,
there is flowers in every crevice and tree bark along the edges.
in my throat there there is a fist, turning to an outstretched hand,
just grazing the closed lips of my silhouette.
i am trying to speak but i cannot.
the limbs inside my head smash the vinyl and the pallets are all dirty.
my lips are closed.
my lips are closed.
my lips are closed.
r.k.
DU LIEST GERADE
Meathead Monologue
PoesieI wanted everyone and everything; all the time and all at once. [volume ii] [poetry and prose] [2017-2019]
