Poetry

As I come, for molarity 
without molars. 
No grinding was left 
in the millstones. 
 
The family 
accumulates. My distorted shape 
will not accept 
the broken ankle. 
 
Paraplegic, you run 
faster than meteriorite. 
The boom was heard 
beyond cacophony. 
 
It had come from 
the blue. The burning anchor 
of desire, without 
the damp eyes.