STAR**** **OOP**S: Surreal Space Poetry – Page 44

surreal space poetry

Bitter work
Short silence[s]
Doubt whip[ped]
Down.

Out here, at
Least, you
Pick your
Own [death].

No rules,
And over.
Broken.
Quiet.

I think [and]
I feel
Better.

surreal space poetry
Small talk makes this so much harder. Time to think. Time to be…