#disection
Do you weep,
For those you ****
Do you feel cold,
Without your second soul?
Skeleton,
In the house of the living.
It is like being dead,
But never being able to die.
Dissection,
On the surgeons table.
When you go,
will the dead pass me by?
You opened up.
The bee and the blooming flower bud.
Carnivore,
You slammed your petals shut.
Its mouth does not speak,
Therefore, its heart shall cease to beat?
Why does it matter to you?
It belongs to me.
I stole its air,
That makes it free.
Hung it from an umbilical cord,
Tied around a broken crescent moon.
Who knew that its home,
Would be the place to call its tomb.
Sang the carols of the needle man,
Now you hold a dead heart in your hand.
The air around screams ****** ******
Seeing you through a blood-stained mirror.
A stranger wearing your skin.
Dead inside the home it made within.
A stranger wearing your skin.
Buried inside your human coffin.
Sep 23, 2019
Sep 23, 2019 at 8:42 PM UTC
I’ve discvoered
A strange pastime of mine
I like to look for flaws
Little things I am ashamed of
Then use poetry
To slowly unravel them
Bit by bit
Like the
Small intestine
We unraveled in our seventh
Grade fetal
Pig disection
Just like that
The ugly flaws
Are unraveled bit by bit
Left in all their original
Blunt grotesque
Glory
In my mind
To be analyzed
And on paper
-or a screen I suppose
Embeleshed,
Into something
Beautified and attractive
But,
Still honest despite
Holding back
To an extent
...
Meanwhile,
In my mind
The flaws are
Picked apart
With little probes
Occasionally,
A finite solution
And method to
Get rid of the
Flaw
Placed on
My never ending
Bucket list
But,
More often than not-
...
ERROR
NO SOLUTION
REQUIRES FURTHER STUDY
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 11:58 PM UTC