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jordan-costiganPoems
Why run? Scream. Abuse. Cry. A fool believed escape was nigh. I love this stuff, my dead insides. Come on in, there’s death to find. These vices are the pain and I, need them to see - sane of eye Followed always, steps behind. Darkness... shadow... reflective shine. Stealthy... Mr. Creeper - ready to pounce Runs up behind, rose in his mouth. Down on one knee, a dangling hand. The prince, charming; a puppet to dance. Melodies play - a hypnotised sway. Lost in a second. Missing for days. The puppet that dances - a miniature he. Impossible. Surely. Who will believe? The puppeteers eyes - mine that I see. I am the puppet, I’m dancing; me. Jester to most, jailor for some. Narcotically dancing, self-loathings thrum. Is this how it is? Is this who I’ll be? Masochistic approach - naught to appease.
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Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 12:04 AM UTC
Salted Wounds
Why run? Scream. Abuse. Cry. A fool believed escape was nigh. I love this stuff, my dead insides. Come on in, there’s death to find. These vices are the pain and I, need them to see - sane of eye Followed always, steps behind. Darkness... shadow... reflective shine. Stealthy... Mr. Creeper - ready to pounce Runs up behind, rose in his mouth. Down on one knee, a dangling hand. The prince, charming; a puppet to dance. Melodies play - a hypnotised sway. Lost in a second. Missing for days. The puppet that dances - a miniature he. Impossible. Surely. Who will believe? The puppeteers eyes - mine that I see. I am the puppet, I’m dancing; me. Jester to most, jailor for some. Narcotically dancing, self-loathings thrum. Is this how it is? Is this who I’ll be? Masochistic approach - naught to appease.
jordan-costigan
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jordan-costigan
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 12:04 AM UTC
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