Assault on the receiver
Blend into the nigh
where I am I
and you
all I can perceive.
A grammatical error?
An unsuspected result
of a brain running mad?
The night is I,
the you is I.
The afterbirth
is decaying.
The result of my effort,
a futile attempt to gain control
of the continuous,
the assault on the receiver.
Poetry by Bob
Read 506 times
Written on 2011-04-20 at 21:24
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John Ashleigh |
Texts |
by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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