Somewhere in the dank forgotten
There are things the worms
Are too afraid to digest yet,
Things that didn’t deserve a gravestone.
Every day is a haunting
I don’t know how to love the ghosts
That cling to my ribcage,
And leave nightly kisses
With their nail-biting lips:
Crescent moon gifts
Bouquets of bruises.
The shadows have fingers
Bent backwards into prayers
I think I’m supposed to answer.
puttingthedogtosleep 
It’s powerful brooding intense work. Congratulations! I hope you send this out to editors : )
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Wow that’s such a compliment, I might start thinking about getting stuff “out there” and that ;o) thank you
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I’ve had poems and stories published in webzines and paper magazines. I really think you’ve got something. Why not? Of course you have to be patient and be ready for tumbleweed blowing and hearing nothing. And redraft your work a few times. I think it’s very good. I’ll take another look today : )
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Yeah dude I love your work, this is some dark/visceral get it out there
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ha ha thanks man, dark/visceral is pretty much all I can write- glad you like it tho XD
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Wow, I could feel a tingling in my gut after reading this. Really intense! XD It’s awesome, in all seriousness. 🙂
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Wow, I’m so glad you liked it and felt affected by it! Thank you so much man XD
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Great portrayal of angst. Anand Bose from Kerala
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