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The Squirming Earth
Don't ever be caught off securing!
The world is in a state of writhing.
Human skin is used to induce maps usage.
And then hang it on the wall alike a rootage.
Who are those poems on my lips, please?
And the lexicon of people who love freeze?
The strands beg, "Whom will I stretch them to?"
Who do you pass to in my night to feel subdue?
Dispenser fragrance distilled in my blood
Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!
Tell me if you're a mountain hallucination.
So, who truly am I? And my appeal literation.
Written: March 15, 2022
1st place contest winner
A Brian Strand Formed Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Copyright ©
Sotto Poet
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