Obligations

 

It sounds like mining,

sounds like growling heavy tools

 

I'm coughing my lungs out

at the bottom of January's air pressure

 

A turboprop passes along its doppler effect,

straight-lined

in its lofty darkness on high;

fine-clothed passengers orderly dispersed

in quadruple rows

 

Everything exists in a relentlessly whining manner,

though nothing is as endless as it seems

 

There is a curvature waiting

for the long distance traveller

 

I'm reaching for my dick,

fullfilling my obligation

 





Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 48 times
Written on 2025-01-10 at 10:18

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arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
In different cultures and subcultures there are varying views and constructions of what is obligatory.
2025-01-11