Of what I may become when the deed is done.
I am afraid I shall not stop,
Entranced by power and pride.
Bereft of a support group,
With only myself to lean on
(i would not draw god into my sins)
I am forced to let you live.
Know, though, that the real monster
Is inside me, waiting.
Unable to explicate
Loss moulded to my fate
I wait and contemplate
Your loss is your own
Under heavy truths
We bow our heads
| The | Broken | |
| Signs are | Only real | |
| In the light | Of the drowned moon. |
I don't give a damn what you
ReplyDeletedo. All I know is that when
you're done, let me know--I'll move
the couch back.
Did you forget that back support strap
you'd always wear--just because.
Remember the time
I held your fate
between my cheeks
of cellophane?
I won your loss--my own
would be just so--
I lied to your face.
The Is Can be
Seen in Realities
Lighting the puddled moon.
Against will
ReplyDeleteThat flouders in the tide
Of memories and madness
I remember, I remember, I remember
The way you squeezed
Popping it once, and again,
Until the noise filled the weorld.
The / Bubble
Wrap was / Exquisite and I
Wish only that / I knew your name.
That last stanza is crazy great. Oh the bubble wrap!
ReplyDelete