IMPLIED SECRETS:
Poetry slides an incisor
behind our addiction to living,
rips essence from its bones
and grinds us chunk to paste,
half sustenance,
the rest, waste.
Verses are beds for the senseless
masturbated to perfect sense.
Sentiments and sympathies
in micro-doses
of self-psychoanalytics
affixed to symptoms,
ticks, and epiphanies.
Come inside,
we have odes to sing. ***
Joey comes out swinging at trauma cycles with moments of grieving and healing in this collection of (mostly) free verse poems and original doodle artwork.
