Hope you choke on words
Lies you spit so easily
Crammed down your own throat
Just a touch of violence for you to spice things up haha
Snakes won't cross a braided rope,
so I take the leads up from around my bed.
I remember her face-
smiling beside mine
white as if she had just shed a skin
and the dunes grow now over the urchin barrens,
a desert in the sea.
I can peer beneath the 3rd lid
my heart claws at my throat,
allergy tight from the judging shade of
The 3rd lid opens over the Taklamakan,
Tibetan horns sound so old -
ancient vagus nerve endings in my throat but my heart claws them away.
Snakes won't cross a braided rope but
her eyes are green and we lay a
cottonmouth skin across her womb.
All I see are diamonds on the ring fingers.
Your nectar trickled down
It’s flavour was renown
The sweet tasting caramel
Slowly chipped at my will
It’s damped my mouth
And pretend I had drought
It spilled its honey substance
And did my longing, justice
It painted my tongue
And between my gums
Lastly it started to float
Down my aching throat
It crawled down my pipe
And made the tube ripe
But it’s objective was my heart
As it would slowly rip me apart
So before it could continue
I started to swallow it whole
Making sure your loving covet
Stayed at the bottom of my stomach
the tree in my throat started budding, i coughed up flowers
shaped like ******* and my doctor
called the government
now they want to sever my neck, count my rings and guess my age
i am afraid the sap will start seeping and i am afraid
that you are committed to the idea of putting your ear against the hole
the government is calling again, this time of an alien kind
they are also curious
i offered them my toes, but only soil drained from my shoes when removed
i guess you’re going to have to sweep more often
dirt, petals, and alien footprints
I see a boy underneath the bin
He prays desperately to a deaf god
Looming over I can smell his despair
Rocking back and forth in holy existence
Your prayer won’t save you now little duckling
Say I to the rat
But on he chants, on and on to gods and clouds and demons
He names them all, one by one endlessly chanting his desperate canon
Where are your gods now?
Do they serve you a merciful end?
I ask as I slash his throat.
Why didn't they teach us how to get rid of that lump in the back of our throat at school.
I opened a door,
my ***** in my throat.
Some times opening a door is just manners...
Love leads to pain.
There is no way around it.
People change or leave or die...
...and your soul’s throat feels slit.
But even if love were a prison
With this lethal injection as my destiny
Should someone discover how to make it...
...I would still refuse the key.
This is a draft that I’m pretty sure I’m going to add to eventually. However, I kind of like this version of it so I thought I’d just go ahead and throw it out there. I think a lot of people could relate to this one.
My throat is a bear cave
The claws of my tears
Have scratched through
Rock and limestone
Leaving the interior
Raw and red
The boiling lava
The dark tunnel
In its path.
I hate this feeling!