PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The living dead are going to 
ask for the right to be 
forgotten in gender dysphoria. 

In grimed apparel, 
the deities were deported back 
to the barn, for housing the antiques. 

The future turns blue, 
moon-eyed, hooking up the 
hopes of running heels. 


Is that true that there 
will be mass suicide after 
the fall of the fort? 

The fat lanterns now 
don't throw the light. Incense 
of burning flesh floats.