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jay-claywellPoems
I am the vengeance, never received. I am a walking fistfight that never was. It is staggering how much rage can be carried on one’s back. I am every raised voice, every clenched fist, the howl of every harsh wind. I am every book that I’ve never read. I am every song that I’ve never heard. All I want to do is bleed ink until I’m dead. Bleeding black ink, a written hemorrhage, a shovelful of dirt flung onto my own casket. I don’t want to be well-adjusted. (What the hell does that even mean?) I am all the slammed doors in the apartment complex. I am a papercut on the tongue. (The letter sits unsent.) *** - JBClaywell © P&ZPublications; 2017
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Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 8:30 PM UTC
Some People Don’t Want to See The Abyss
I am the vengeance, never received. I am a walking fistfight that never was. It is staggering how much rage can be carried on one’s back. I am every raised voice, every clenched fist, the howl of every harsh wind. I am every book that I’ve never read. I am every song that I’ve never heard. All I want to do is bleed ink until I’m dead. Bleeding black ink, a written hemorrhage, a shovelful of dirt flung onto my own casket. I don’t want to be well-adjusted. (What the hell does that even mean?) I am all the slammed doors in the apartment complex. I am a papercut on the tongue. (The letter sits unsent.) *** - JBClaywell © P&ZPublications; 2017
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jay-claywell
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jay-claywell
45/M
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 8:30 PM UTC
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