deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Doghouse

 
Disenchantment at the doghouse.
Passion cools
to curse & sense,

perfect,

beyond the shadow
of a doubtful cur.

Familiar scent
of a stranger's air.

Teeth & splintered
chops down cold,
or red to running
on purpled howling.

These wet work meals
that pop & please
on empty beds
of dust & dream.

A mutt for all seasons,

I am

outdoors, you know.

Disengagement at the doghouse.
Cooler heads
that laugh at cold, hard
reality...

Written by ButcherScraps
Published
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