Sink


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Lip-synching to a life half-lived;
cold maelstrom meals, slim doldrum days,
citalopram-clad drum roll haze.
 

In bowls of broken glass slop-sieved,
pus-puckered mouth too sore to pour
lips’ ink into a life half-lived.
 

Tongue lolls in shrunken gum malaise,
lips sink into a life half-lived.
 
 

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Filed under Octain, Poetry

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