the form
3.12.2018
i have never known myself.
a stranger lying in wait within
my scrambling flesh. when
it sings, sinks in the singe of
match burns and quiet lies,
calling out – like to like,
sinew and muscle vibrato,
the skeleton hums in climaxing
stasis, the never-ever-getter
getting something in the end,
the finality of crying
in a quiet bed.
it is not enough.
it will never be right or
good or whole enough for you,
take and take and do not
give a shit or second
thought – you seam up the hole
but leave the inside bleeding.
shadow of the counter-part;
everything in this mouth tastes
like cardboard, bile, some latex
foreign object – square
hole, round peg. and in
the middle of this tandem mess…
the form, the screaming words
caught in shirtsleeves, bedspreads.
straining ears catch no pentameter.
words wrap like thistles round
my thighs, mouth soundless and
torn as a stuffed doll. trip and stop.
i have
no idea what i’m doing anymore.
4.12.2018 at 2:21:37
Happy you showed this off and got to do a little premiere on Twitch.
Think this’ll keep more eyes on your blog for sure and bring some poetry enthusiasts to check you out regularly!
Yeah, knowing yourself mentally, spiritually and physically’s never going to happen.
In our youths and during our growth we turned a blind eye to key events that come and hunt us.
We’re all coping unconsciously but if we let 1 aspect fall apart the rest will follow.
Always try to tackle 1 aspect at a time and always the toughest.
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