Ode to rest

I heard you are who you are
like your name
you do not stress the tongue
mind or thoughts.
I hear you are a deep hole
and swallow everyone in whole,
the dead, those who think they’re dead
all are hieroglyphs on your wall.
do you have children I can molest?
I need to pleasure my head
a little, one after a bottle of whiskey
or red wine
do you come when I cum
or are you somewhere
after this poem is over?

Ruddapoet