Deposable
It should be treated as a profanity.
Feelings, Let us use numb in its stead.
I have numbness for you. Here, numb this.
You hurt my numbings. How quaint.
I don’t give a shit about them.
Not theirs or yours, his or them, mine or it’s.
The gore and acceptance have sliced it
Like a meat shaver and now it dresses up
like Halloween candy.
One for you and one for you and aren’t you cute?
Take two, their small.
By: K. Mulroney
Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
Unknown Source
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Disintegratio n |
0 | 11/21/2010 |
| Collapse | 0 | 03/31/2010 |
| Life Only Lasts a Minute | 0 | 09/09/2009 |
| Whined Blind | 0 | 09/08/2009 |
| Imprint | 0 | 09/07/2009 |
| Deposable | 0 | 09/07/2009 |
| Defiance in color | 0 | 09/07/2009 |
| A Million Miles for Nothing | 1 | 08/02/2009 |
| Moderate Intensities | 0 | 08/02/2009 |
| Middle Class | 0 | 08/02/2009 |
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