November 04, 2015 at 07:46 am
Poem, E (Explicit Language)
Free Verse | Writing | General/Other
Upload Stats: 1
comments and 133
Is it stress
Is it stress,
or loss, despair and survival
we must discuss.
Stress is just the symptom
of a universe intent to destroy the individual
before it births new life. It sends the dogs
after us, after the holocaust, in the tattered ruins
of our city.
There is this despair and expectation
of destruction, but somewhere there is still also
simple sky blue,
flowers among railroad ties,
true love between sexual partners.
Is it sex,
or love, companionship and reliableness
we must expect.
Sex, nothing but laying my head
at your cunt, can interest me sometimes. Your legs
lead to a pleasure that seems infinite and smells
So there is this tenderness, a connection
like a suction to the biological that is ephemeral
as snow on the ground,
one elk in aspen,
death and nothing less.
© RobertRonnow - all rights reserved
The author would love to hear your feedback but you must be logged in to do that. If you are a member of Writers-Network click here to login and review this writing entry.
Not a member? Not a problem! You can register here, it's free for everyone