Torture of the Merry Go Round
Oddly enough over piles of exceuciating humid
breathless nights
particularly that night
Lost in wordless heights always stick in the riot
of perpetually never ending moments and
movement ascending to decsend and repeat
as high and or low as all
bodily consciousnesss possibilities will allow
This finality of being this exist out of ever again
having to become
Copyright © Ryan Hughes | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment