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marion-clinePoems
There’s broken glass in my foot clear symmetrical triangles dangling off my foot like a dazzling chandelier. But pain. like a dragons claw, like a witches fingernail cut deep and the oozing, dripping, thick scarlet liquid seeping over the bathroom tiles, reflects my dazed face. Where am I? My pale, white, finger extends and dips into the red and now the lines on my hands are all red and my eyes blur with the color red. I walk down stairs. Isn't everything romanticized? Red flowers,       red skin,               red lips,                             red breath. But the eyes, the eyes are red and I suppose that is what really impales me.
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Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
broken glass/ red
There’s broken glass in my foot clear symmetrical triangles dangling off my foot like a dazzling chandelier. But pain. like a dragons claw, like a witches fingernail cut deep and the oozing, dripping, thick scarlet liquid seeping over the bathroom tiles, reflects my dazed face. Where am I? My pale, white, finger extends and dips into the red and now the lines on my hands are all red and my eyes blur with the color red. I walk down stairs. Isn't everything romanticized? Red flowers,       red skin,               red lips,                             red breath. But the eyes, the eyes are red and I suppose that is what really impales me.
cut by what? interested to know how this is interpreted
#eyes#hurt#red#cut#paranoia#dazed
marion-cline
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marion-cline
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
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