Monday, May 15, 2017

Anger Toward Flesh

Asking for anything is like passing rocks through a sieve.

Passing seconds flick by as I sit motionless, trying to catch my breath.

Unlike the piles of decaying bone clogging my throat, my eyes scream volumes. 
Hear Me.

For He knows not what He needs.

Purple mold encasing my fractured womb makes it ok. 
Ok to laugh at.

Read me sonnets for my lullaby. 

Fuck the norm...I want to fly. 

Needle piercing skull to remove the memory of hate.

Take it away. All was made up anyway.

Like the Once Upon a Time my eyes thrived on only now makes them weep.

This language I speak is only understood by some. 

Gurgling with coagulated words that come out in barely a whisper. 
A mimic of what was scraped off the ocean floor. 

Serpents hide down there with razors for teeth - like cut outs of cold steel. 

They wait patiently to separate you from your soul. 

Everyone has Shade and it makes us Human.

I'd rather be that serpent engorged on pipe dreams. 

Dredging pearls through the mud, 

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