SOMEONE’S MINOR APOCALYPSE

by January 17, 2019 0 comments

Parched to a silence like giggling gibberish
…craving ice cold liquids
…sorry cigarettes that forget all dreams
…I was the last in line
for a mayhem which never graced my bones.
They rattle now and squeeze dry blood
…ignoring the fact outside!…the flood!

editors note:

Apocalypses pale in comparison to individual addictions. Get in line! – mh clay

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