I am bamboozled.
The instructions are
a monotonous contradiction.
For every tale
I read of traitorous bloodlust,
of holy hypocrisy,
my motivation to finish
this bloody bibliography
escapes my body,
flailing itself into
the constellations.
I am left nothing more
then a gelatinous sack,
a sorrowful student
resembling some
squashed cranberries.
YOU ARE READING
A Perpetual Existence: A Collected Work of Poems and Verse
PoetryHi, I'm Juliana. What you see here is every poem I've ever written (minus a few drafts that I don't feel comfortable posting). Thus, some of them are gems (see An Arbor to the Moon, The Quiet, or Hamster), and others I fully understand if you read t...
