Poetry, Prose & Free Verse By Paul Warren About The Human Condition
they’ve been married
two years,
she can’t walk
he can’t talk
they’re both past
their sell by date,
rancid human meat,
clearly in denial,
sometimes love
is the leftovers,
it slowly gathers bacteria
on its outer skin,
we feel it,
we consume it raw
only to end up puking
our guts out
on the bathroom floor
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