Poems from PeterLinus
Collective consciousness
is much easier when defined.
Much thought.
Contemplation is for blind.
We move ever closer to claim what seems...
Why must , in every picture, she look so beautiful?I don’t want to remember her beautiful.I want to remember her ugly and decrepit.I want...
Death of the Body
A blank page is a disease, eating away at all our thoughts.
Ink flows from ear to ear filling up the empty slots....
My mother and I walked around outside before her death.
She smelled of industrial waste.
But I tell myself she smelled like flowers,...
One day I'll catch you pick pocketing my chest cavity.
I'll catch you reaching past flesh without calamity.
I'll catch you, hands stained...