Sitting down to a Gothic meal,
roasted paper for
soaking up dark poetics.
For the Gothic poet eats
ashes and blood stained poetry.
The parchment has yellowed,
causing a grungy texture to
my format.
I a poet have a darker vision
to a morbid stuffing recipe
for Gothic lore and
a darker side to my
poetics.
Your mind eats from my
darker side, as you read
my Gothic eulogy.
Without poetry I am dead inside.
Share:
The editor messed up my poem. Oh well you can still read it. I hope you all enjoy.
This happened to me before. You should be able to edit poems now. You might have to verified. I’m not too sure.
I am verified. I will look around the site to see if there is an edit button. I probably missed it somehow. I am still learning how the site works.
Keep writing.
Continue living.
Be great!
Thank you. Same to you.