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Spaghetti knots

our father

if night could talk

it would moan

about morning

and how daylight hurt

the eyes

though it would also say

it couldn’t see much anyways


it was the sweaty summer

where the sun swelled

like a single organism swallowing the sky

that i was born again in myself

i wet with i

a reverse birth in my bed covers

baptized in filth of smoking

and drinking and whatever

was left of whatever


until a knock from below


it is the shining son

he prays to play outside

and maybe go to the beach

because it’s nice so nice did you see how nice it is


i see that it and he and all are good

i am god yet

the world revolves around me


there is power

in reflecting

and turning myself backwards

from me to empower

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)


One thought on “our father

  1. Lovely poem.

    Posted by mukul chand | March 19, 2016, 11:26 pm

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