segunda-feira, 12 de fevereiro de 2024

The drifter of bottle hill

 Aimless ripped old rucksack
down the half paved street he tries
the neglected curves of the city
unkempt hair and daunting eyes

through the roadside weeds
a ghostship of a man with a foolhardy tide feeds
cracks in the pavements a part of him
extensions of his legs

death took an interest
and the pale bridge spirit too
is this something to eat they wondered
alas that man is a venom stew

order a rival
life an insult a bile
his sickly pale skin
an invisible evil

conspiring unknown sin



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