I’m Tattered
I need the tattered stuff.
It feels like grooves groaning.
Envious of slow thoughts.
I’m rattled.
It bounces like falling down the drain.
Until I looked again and everything turned shy.
At least shy to me.
As the old coat got older.
I like the tattered stuff.
Flipping through all that yesterday.
And still, nothing under my eyelids.
It’s nice as a book with spices.
And medicine.
In the tattered stuff.
In this abandoned place.
Until I unabandoned it.
Their rattled.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
