Breadline – A Poem

This is for Trifecta. Lot’s of 3’s involved. The topic was the word Crush, the definition 3: to reduce to particles by pounding or grinding <crush rock>.

My effort is written with 3 words per line, 3 lines per verse, 99 words (33 x 3), so I think the 3’s are covered 🙂

Breadline

A mere germ
I rose up
To the sun

Opened my husk.
I knew not
what might come.

My dream was
To find someone.
We would conjoin

One single step
In the continuum.
A perfect sum.

But you disagreed,
Took my seed
With your need

Laid me down
As a lover
Only to crush.

I am powder
From your rage
My heart particulate.

Suddenly it rains.
Turned every way
I fear drowning

Feel fierce pounding
Then sweaty heat
Air invades me

I am changing
The world ignites
The rain dries

Rising from dust
I have become
Food for everyone

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29 thoughts on “Breadline – A Poem

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  1. SEE I have the same problem with food. I think I may have really liked this chicken… Or this cow. EVEN this poor carrot was so happy in the soil I bet. I need my head examined! … hhhmmmmm I’m hungry!

    1. Fucking hell I laughed hard at that!
      I did shit awful, but then I guess you’re supposed to ask everyone to “go vote for me” and I couldn’t be arsed – once it was written that chapter was done.
      Thanks for the chuckle you festering arse pile 🙂

      1. I am assuming that you scathing insults to me mean you’ve stopped beating your wife with a frying pan… How in the world would we explain the nature of our relationship to our spouses? “No, darling, I swear I am not having an affair. Yes I talk to him/her everyday, but all we do is make up creative, disgusting insults and fling them back and forth. It’s good therapy. I could call you names, too, but then I would be left without nookie.” ?? Yep, still sounds weird. Moldy (or would that be ‘mouldy’) anal beard trimming.

      2. It depends. I suspect you are still secretly hot for me, so maybe you want to take molds of my anal hair to keep as mementos, or maybe to use as models when coifing you own facial extruberances!!

      3. Hmmm. Although the English accent you undoubtedly have is an aphrodisiac for American women, I have my own personal Vinny Jones… I mean, Jason Statham. So the portion of my love that is devoted to men with accents happens to be filled (very well, I might add. Wink, wink). You’ll have to up the ante to win my true affections. Anal mold will not do it. Try again, festering foreskin breath.

You can tell me anything (yes, even that!)

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