Contributor: Maria-Theresa Zehendstrom


A wet release
likely illicit
carried you into being
and the whole world spun on around you
until the last wet breath
before the grave.

"But what more?"
you cry
for even the rushing waves
crushing pains
of life on earth
leave you longing for more
leave you clawing at the door
as death drags you into abyss
and nothing remains
nothing except the pain
left for someone else to endure.


- - -
Inspired by the writings of Herne, Norris and Moreno, I write the song that splashes from my hands when I pour my soul on paper.