The older I get the more cruel the world seems.

How can love so easily drain?

Where are those pipes,

I want to dig and dig for them.

Until every line is unearthed

and I stick clumps of my hair,

torn pieces of my garments,

all my belligerent screams,

every thick, chalky tear,

shreds of my skin,

and parts of my body

into them.

Clog mother fucker.

Don’t take away this,

Love.

We circle in

sightless

madness

without it.

Without it, without it, without it.

These labor pains are far too near the bottom,

of those insatiated, dried seas.

Clog mother fucker.

And set us free.

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4 Comments

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4 responses to “

  1. I like this…yep I like this a lot

  2. Thanks Katy, love. I wonder how it sounds with a beautiful babe in your arms? I bet you are ready to dig and dig and dig for him….congrats btw.

  3. speechless. ‘clog motherfucker’. this should be published. true voice.

  4. you o’ poetic Shannon with an adoration for language have made me reread this to see what you see. thank you. it’s good to be told, ‘true voice’.

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