I'm not wounded
Just dying

Tomorrow pretended to be something it was not
for loving you came too easily
and now thinking back, in hindsight
i shouln't have let you drive

Behind shards of broken glass
we have fallen off steel tracks
no emergency room big enough
for the both of us

poison kisses fill me as you take those first steps
venom seeping into my veins
both of us cannot survive this mess
i leave with a wound bound tight

This wound

I keep tonguing,

To keep from healing,

Refuses to fade

Because of my endless efforts.

But why would I do such a thing?

negative words cut into me
they leave their wounds

old cuts flare up now and then
I hear the world screaming
I am not good enough,
even when I am the only person around

the negative voices in my head
are slowly quelled by the daily spiritual path
based on love and service,
and each subtle damage is being transformed
to scars that teach

Could you please cease your
skinny white shining
crawling through my
REM with
mane ablaze in
sun-aura

Not because you aren't
a wonderful dream
but you make the waking side
of chaos and reality
into the old bruise
as i disinfect my
emote

Tequila ruins me
Vomitted on a bouncer
Emergency room.

A broken heart
Its wound invisible
Yet it bleeds the soul
Of even the last hope*









© Amitav (Radiance)

Yes, I love you, yes I do,

...

but now is OVER.. Over.. over...

..

Still There's a wound refused to heal to become the most painful scar

****** affliction of a lack of affection companion
Hand and hand strolling greater than syrupy plunging
and even sometimes buddy shrugging over wooden noisemakers
We whistle with their metal strings
and through the pasta soft ones in our throats
but no nest colored mares seem to hear
our flamboyant feather calls for future fondling
So I scribe slight implied short letters
invites to drink joints and nature jaunts
All too well thought out
hoping your advanced technology cannot trace
the time I spent to type
The overanalysis of our psych: her and I’s
wondering why she doesn’t have an inkling
for a cute fall date where we attempt to bake apple pies
It’s all too contrived, I know
I’ll strive for delusion
Accept a useful interpretation for our chemical inflammation
and let sparks pass it by
Like itsy bitsy flies laying eggs in a wound
for stagnant water maggots
They’ll eat away the thought well
where all my cranial zaps seem to dwell.