slips

maybe no more coffee

Freudian fodder

to feed the mouths

like the fountain of youth rediscovered.

Thought slips on a reflective pool in winter.

An illusion of Christ,

to feed the miracle.

suppression leaves the body eventually.

My sweat will freeze over.

An ironic side-note:

The same ice I hit my head on

suppressed the swelling.

Reviews

[Ghost of Jupiter]

haha, yes more coffee... keep it coming

Your first stanza tied me up and pulled me into the piece. Had to chuckle at the side note too. You have a unique quality to your writing and I have to say i am loving it today. So glad you decided to share.