The Wormhole Poem

by

Adam Gosha

I wish this hole would have its
end, but I keep digging.
Like a parasite thirsty for blood, I
keep digging. Like a finger nail
sharp into a lover's eyeball, I
keep digging. Deeper and deep
and the deeper I go, the less
I can find and the harder it
is to climb out again. I've been
handed many ropes but they're always
let go, and so I keep digging
until I find someone buried.
Someone who's given up climbing,
and who's given up digging alone.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Words of play
by: John William McGrath III
from: Mesa, AZ, US

To visit all of Adam Gosha's poems, click HERE

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