I
I'll prise you open with shaking fingers because everyone around me is quiet
Watching moving pictures which do not move
As little sound as possible in dim light which is only partly reflected in you
In my mouth you crunch and my eyes dart left and right
But soon it is soft, melting, slipping into me slowly like the fondest memory
And I have given up in pleasing the irritated whispers and angry nudges
Into you I will go, my fingers becoming softer and smoother with each release
Of salted, fattening sheets
I am a poor, hollow creature who has waited so long to gorge
II
All I hear is strings of letters and I am in love
I see multitudes of colours and weep at their beauty,
I see grayscale, I see noir, I'm shocked at their significance
Because my life is so insignificant
Nothing to birds who fly without me
Nothing to worms who bury not for me
Get your head out of the bag it'll do nothing for you
Nothing for you
Nothing
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
I
I'll prise you open with shaking fingers because everyone around me is quiet
Watching moving pictures which do not move
As little sound as possible in dim light which is only partly reflected in you
In my mouth you crunch and my eyes dart left and right
But soon it is soft, melting, slipping into me slowly like the fondest memory
And I have given up in pleasing the irritated whispers and angry nudges
Into you I will go, my fingers becoming softer and smoother with each release
Of salted, fattening sheets
I am a poor, hollow creature who has waited so long to gorge
II
All I hear is strings of letters and I am in love
I see multitudes of colours and weep at their beauty,
I see grayscale, I see noir, I'm shocked at their significance
Because my life is so insignificant
Nothing to birds who fly without me
Nothing to worms who bury not for me
Get your head out of the bag it'll do nothing for you
Nothing for you
Nothing
Request permission to use this poem