Molten Poetry

Let it burn.

Black ink beast,
lurking in the pit
of my stomach,
clawing through
the lining…

Listen, you can
hear its pleas,

“Feed me.”

Whining.

Eight shiny legs,
bundled, bindings,
push up my throat,
‘tween teeth, tight,
and grab ahold
of whatever

Good Thing

is currently
shining.


©️ Tenpenny, 2019.

Crystal Spider – Odilon Redon

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