Non-Norse Poetry by me ~
The smell of disinfectant
sterile or filthy ? - throw away
thwarted cry for attention
painridden minds, surprised by mortality,
dragging their bodies through neonlit corridors.
Between them hover
pale-skinned ant-hill dwellers.
Old people abed
every remaining day
converting food into shit.
When even this stops, the nurses come
- This poem is in the Common Domain and may be freely distributed
provided it remains unchanged, including copyright notice and this
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