Two Bowls of Dead Leaves

Weird Poetry

Two bowls of dead leaves,

Harvested from still living vines,

Sit on the table.

I haven’t thrown them out


Because I am considering grinding them up

And making tea,

So I can taste what it feels like

To wilt and die

Even when clearly being sustained by veins and arteries

Full of life.




*** You’re having a rough morning, and want everyone to know, aren’t ya, Sweetums? Relax. That’s what drugs are for. ***

*** Sometimes I am ungrateful and full of angst. I am an entitled little shit. Always when I bleed does all of the hell come out with the crimson screaming. I need no pity, just marijuana. ***

*** Also, I was literally pruning one of my plants that was full of dead leaves buried under the living ones. I normally suck at taking care of plants, but I couldn’t stand the sight of them any more. So I picked them off… then poeming happened. ***

6 thoughts on “Two Bowls of Dead Leaves

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