Category: poem of the day

  • My Daughters and Sons, Let Us Gather Under the Heavens

    My Daughters and Sons, Let Us Gather Under the Heavens

    loose stick shift into reverse Fuck off–that’s terse pullin up in a hearse like godamn this hurts knife in the chest brother knows best why you guessed alcohol and the rest is ego I suppose on the mountaintop but you froze it’s just the path you chose if only like Jesus you rose anaesthetized against…