I clutch hard.

Wet eyes bulge wide.

I choke;

Mat hair,
Rip skin,
Bite flesh.

I suffocate. I drown.

Culprit and victim.

Every single time.

2 thoughts on “23/10/19

  1. I love your bad poetry concept. One has to write it. It’s how I start to write a poem..
    It’s necessary for me to formulate the ideas in my muddled mind into wrapped nuggets of plausible energy that I would be proud to spout.
    It happens less often as I wonder into the deeper regions of seniority.😀

    1. This month I’ve found it a bit more difficult to get the ideas out. I need to recapture some of the bad poetry spirit– thanks for your beautifully-worded support!

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