Numbed Guts

the gut is full of
shattered pieces

those that make you
remember nails

the feel of thorns
and porcupines

time has a way of
numbing guts

and then pain is nothing
but recurrences

you have no name for it
but survival

you go on talking the paths
with nothing but

the moon above you
and the silence of the earth

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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