ForkWord




Poems by Inchiki



 


diary entry jan 2011



the slow glide of change
slices through me like it did my parents
and theirs - sliced like lemons

the world seems more hideous
the more i get to know it

the innocent glow is lost
when we first pick up the schoolbag
and leave everything we believe

truth might be a drug what
with the hangover it brings

my grandparents found it
but all we knew of it as children
was that hangover







Poison Bomb  2011