I long
to be nothing to somebody.
Discarded as the filter,
that peace
keeping this toxicity
at abated levels,
after you've used me
and have left nothing but ash.
Toss me aside
so dust and I may meet
rebuilding my being.
Fear not this poison,
over-exposure occurs within moments
and hence,
this making you, wretch,
will leave you immune.
Wanting to look into your eyes
fluttering as shades drawn
to allow us our privacy,
shutting off you from
me recomposing,
we are perfect together.
Disgust, your first impression
does well for my mirror,
destruction willing, my reprisal.
Shatter this looking back,
use shards of what's left to pluck heartstrings,
slide your glass-edged bow across these vocal chords,
allow all to hear the cacophony of a failing being.
Lose yourself, my torment
your release, emotion
but false memory.
Allow me your feet,
a subservient posture
dipping to welling eyes,
glistening to the light
of our true deaths, notes
and screams punctuated by
inkwell swelled wrists while
we fall six feet beneath
these sheets
and roll in our seductive graves.
Once there's been enough
shoveled on top
that we may be laid
to rest,
find comfort knowing
you've stolen my breath.
I long
to be nothing to somebody,
discarded, tossed aside
so the next to come needn't pick me up,
filtering my words through the masks we wear.
So I may be free to fall by this way,
not caring when I am lost.
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
I long
to be nothing to somebody.
Discarded as the filter,
that peace
keeping this toxicity
at abated levels,
after you've used me
and have left nothing but ash.
Toss me aside
so dust and I may meet
rebuilding my being.
Fear not this poison,
over-exposure occurs within moments
and hence,
this making you, wretch,
will leave you immune.
Wanting to look into your eyes
fluttering as shades drawn
to allow us our privacy,
shutting off you from
me recomposing,
we are perfect together.
Disgust, your first impression
does well for my mirror,
destruction willing, my reprisal.
Shatter this looking back,
use shards of what's left to pluck heartstrings,
slide your glass-edged bow across these vocal chords,
allow all to hear the cacophony of a failing being.
Lose yourself, my torment
your release, emotion
but false memory.
Allow me your feet,
a subservient posture
dipping to welling eyes,
glistening to the light
of our true deaths, notes
and screams punctuated by
inkwell swelled wrists while
we fall six feet beneath
these sheets
and roll in our seductive graves.
Once there's been enough
shoveled on top
that we may be laid
to rest,
find comfort knowing
you've stolen my breath.
I long
to be nothing to somebody,
discarded, tossed aside
so the next to come needn't pick me up,
filtering my words through the masks we wear.
So I may be free to fall by this way,
not caring when I am lost.
