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LifesabeachPoems
To erase, a half prayer that I could peel off my face. Hoping my mind would die inside So I could rebuild, start to replace, the memory within my fingertips Of your missing pulse The way your eyes screamed contention, and the sight of your bodies post- mortem convulse, I want that to stop Still Smash in every clock, for when Time doesn't link us, why should I hark to a ticking that slices at a life already half empty, rather than half full Keep topping myself up with ethanol Central Nervous System policing the cheat, puncturing my sockets to free the holograms of happy memories, in a silver stream No substance left now that it's tainted No substance strong enough to take this pit away Shovel thrown away, but never clean, bones and teeth, muscles oiled and lean, cling to the metal of my mouth. All eyes drawn south, because dust always draws flies Like the worm trodden mess of your thighs And the way I can still feel you on my breast Like a coffin's weight I bare you Never at rest Always a race Perhaps I'd find peace if I tore off my face.
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Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
Dug in My Fingers
To erase, a half prayer that I could peel off my face. Hoping my mind would die inside So I could rebuild, start to replace, the memory within my fingertips Of your missing pulse The way your eyes screamed contention, and the sight of your bodies post- mortem convulse, I want that to stop Still Smash in every clock, for when Time doesn't link us, why should I hark to a ticking that slices at a life already half empty, rather than half full Keep topping myself up with ethanol Central Nervous System policing the cheat, puncturing my sockets to free the holograms of happy memories, in a silver stream No substance left now that it's tainted No substance strong enough to take this pit away Shovel thrown away, but never clean, bones and teeth, muscles oiled and lean, cling to the metal of my mouth. All eyes drawn south, because dust always draws flies Like the worm trodden mess of your thighs And the way I can still feel you on my breast Like a coffin's weight I bare you Never at rest Always a race Perhaps I'd find peace if I tore off my face.
#suicide#peace#fingers#me
Lifesabeach
Written by
Lifesabeach
English
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
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