*is that even a word?
literaturely?
who cares really?
It is now, to me*
I have oft complained
the seductive heat
of tar and ink
that has literaturely
clogged my veins
and in turn
gummed my brain
often touting screams
that proclaim
NOT SANE
is here to remain
but I was wrong?
When last I cut my wrists
the pain ran Red
and inside my head
I literaturely turned Blue
Who knew?
that all things unsaid
are put to bed
on a razors edge
cutting my soul in half
that never once
turned on you
I literaturely turned gray
I paled beneath dying embers
of forgotten burning fires
dulling as ash coated remnants
of long ago desires
I now step back
from the fray
I've had my weak
my day
and upon the hour
where the clock strikes
the 780th minute
*13 leaves a sour
taste in my mouth*
turning all good things South
swimming in blackness
in my new ruby red
bathing suit
that literaturely
turned white
I literaturely died
tonight
Now a mute
blood red in vane
I sit and stare
at the bones
of my soul
that remain
A ghastly caricature
of a misspent life
that can't negotiate
the road at the bend
*I literaturely can
no longer
comprehend*
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
*is that even a word?
literaturely?
who cares really?
It is now, to me*
I have oft complained
the seductive heat
of tar and ink
that has literaturely
clogged my veins
and in turn
gummed my brain
often touting screams
that proclaim
NOT SANE
is here to remain
but I was wrong?
When last I cut my wrists
the pain ran Red
and inside my head
I literaturely turned Blue
Who knew?
that all things unsaid
are put to bed
on a razors edge
cutting my soul in half
that never once
turned on you
I literaturely turned gray
I paled beneath dying embers
of forgotten burning fires
dulling as ash coated remnants
of long ago desires
I now step back
from the fray
I've had my weak
my day
and upon the hour
where the clock strikes
the 780th minute
*13 leaves a sour
taste in my mouth*
turning all good things South
swimming in blackness
in my new ruby red
bathing suit
that literaturely
turned white
I literaturely died
tonight
Now a mute
blood red in vane
I sit and stare
at the bones
of my soul
that remain
A ghastly caricature
of a misspent life
that can't negotiate
the road at the bend
*I literaturely can
no longer
comprehend*
