Stories , Poems, and More By A.M. Moscoso


A word

a phrase

twisted here, set over there

jumbled, bent forced into place

your reflection cast in ink.

Isn’t it grand, clever, such an easy game

We are all exquisite corpses

penned by careless hands, loving hands, cold hands

laying restless

left to wonder

is this really my grave?

Daily Post Prompt: Exquisite

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: