Singing Darkness
In hirsute adolescence
a narcissist climbs
the breast and becomes
a graveyard of moons.
Talking of marginality,
a hole in the chest
ejects a secret of peachy skin
when wind was selling sex.
Most corrupt was me
always telling truth about the
warm eggs of chaotic legs
who will not climb down the street.
Satish Verma
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.
