Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Eamon Mokhtari May 2017
My face
Stole the skin of a diamond
To tote as it’s own mask of
Me, being the ever-ovulating orchestrator
Needed to pin the tail on this donkey
Only to rationalize why it is
Only in our nature to scrutinize
Our flaws, like a jeweler.
Each facet is forced to plead their case
While in the back of their mind’s eye
They know they will only be allowed on probation
Until the abuse from the lapidary starts again.
Tell me I’m not a real diamond
But then have the courtesy
To shatter me
Back into young, unglazed sand
Eamon Mokhtari Mar 2017
My forgiving bones
yearn to be

My tattered heart
aches to be

Frozen quakes ripple
across a charred body
that never should have been
Eamon Mokhtari Feb 2017
I slither across the tightrope between
"people person" and Socratically suicidal.
Nobody has ever translated their transcriptions
But I,
Somehow am allowed to bleed them into ink,
page after page waiting
to dry myself up and ring myself out.
We are nothing but ***** washcloths,
each emotion a bead of soiled
aquatic excrement.
Will I ever accept myself as a
Eamon Mokhtari Feb 2017
I try to **** at least
one part of myself
each and everyday.

Strangle the host
in between every breath or
suffocate in front of the mirror
under the weight of weary eyes,

Every skin I slither out of
gets me one step farther
from my heart
and adds one lock
to my mind.

The door is always shut
whether locked or not,
but I'm never sure
whether I'm locked in or out.

I want to savor the hemlock
as it invades me. I want to
savor it right out of
the birthing pool of my synapses.
But I am yearning to earn that prize.
Eamon Mokhtari Dec 2016
I am a pawn on my own distraught
chessboard. The juxtaposed avenues of
landscape instill a craving for regression.
No desire to advance thanks to
the looming gift of sacrifice. Lateral steps are cherished,
nourished for too many seasons.
An austere spring is beginning to cascade and crumble
under the weight of the
intransigent summer. The board
begins to emit a cool sizzle
from its pores. Pawns relish
in their lack of duties but are
never graced with the option of lateral steps.
Stalked by the truer ivory pieces of enbalment,
pushed by their slave driving synapses
to chase the horizon for Bimini and longevity.

— The End —