Sunday, November 4, 2012

Poems and Prose #16: Cog

Tick-tick-tick.

Thick spit
sheathes my lips,
while my gritted teeth
stymie all attempts at wit.

The gears cl-click,
turning slowly
'cause they're bent.
And no matter, no,
how hard they're hit,
I just can't seem
to smooth the dents.

Tick-tick-tick...

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