Thursday, August 18, 2011

Murder, in the first degree: An Ode to Self-stimulation

the seeds...they spilled...got wasted...aborted...was the potential...to grow...still...I imagine you...envision life full...people touched...by all your worth...because you live...live[ed]...past tense...you never came into being...his seed...it got spilled...it got wasted...the potential to grow...it's gone...still...I imagine...you...

1 comment:

Precious said...

Thispoem is awfully moving even though I know how it originated (eww)