Pathetic liars
cracking at the skin.
Ink drying up, but
nothing ever written down.
A calamity of words
never hearing the light of day.
Keep pressure on the wound
even if there is no blood
we wouldn't want an infection
now would we?
See it dissolves and has frothing
like feeling. A taste that never
really leaves.
Try to think of something else
to keep from retching. Twisting
,physically, your insides as it becomes
a metaphor of where you've found yourself
this time.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 2:36 PM UTC
Pathetic liars
cracking at the skin.
Ink drying up, but
nothing ever written down.
A calamity of words
never hearing the light of day.
Keep pressure on the wound
even if there is no blood
we wouldn't want an infection
now would we?
See it dissolves and has frothing
like feeling. A taste that never
really leaves.
Try to think of something else
to keep from retching. Twisting
,physically, your insides as it becomes
a metaphor of where you've found yourself
this time.
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