Poetry Blog by The Black Bile (Past)

Tags from last 12 months

Cannibal Jones (96) Song (22) Teenage Poetry (4) White (3) Poverty (2) Paralysis (2) Highway (2) Midnight (1) Road (1) Media (1) Past (1) Dreamcatcher (1) Stay (1) Pan (1)

Fifth (1) Guess (1) Nevermore (1) Cul-de-Sac (1) Castle (1) The Angel is Near (1) Screen (1) Adjustment (1) Trailer (1) Red Barn (1) Ravenflocks (1) Fore (1) Panic (1) Pool (1) Enemies were close (1) Dirt Roads (1) Pig's Blood (1) Them (1) Power (1) NPDCH (1) Tent (1) Akilla (1) B-Side (1) Dressed (1) Macabre (1) The Search (1) Transitioning (1) State (1) Ends (1) The Ravenflocks (1) Comics (1) Early (1) accustom (1) If (1) The Wizard (1) Alabama (1) Mushroom (1) Nesses (1) Moving (1) The Cell (1) Hearth (1) Wednesday (1) Diablo (1) Burned Bridge (1) Darkness (1) Separate (1) Blue (1) Phone Calls From the Dead (1) Hours (1) Linebarger (1) Ax (1) We lost something important that day (1) But you don't (1) Dishwasher (1)

Under the Ladder

by The Black Bile

I Don’t Even Have To Hope You Go To Hell.
With That Evil Grin
Come Lurking Around The Corner.
And I Don’t Feel The Need To
Sell Myself To You.
Turning On The Screw.
So I’m Just.
And Just Keep On Writing
Underneath The Ladder.
Old Timer, Turn The Volume Down.
Pages Turn, Yet Here I Burn.
Never One To Be Part Of This World.

Read and leave comments (0)

🌷 (1)

Saturday 25th May 2019 5:52 pm

Cannibal Jones Past

Poetry Blog by The Black Bile (Past)

Tags from last 12 months

Recent Comments

Under the Ladder

Archive