100
i think i can count
to about one hundred but
i think i'll need help
just think, type, submit.
every poem is anonymous.
i don't love my life
so much as to shrink from death;
whole milk is holy.
o death, i will be
your plagues, man-killed child-- the ghost
who looks in. yes, death,
where is your sting? i
fear silent gaps where kraken
wait to devour me.
at 11:36 PM