#slab - Hello Poetry

nightmares in action side eyeing distraction you could never be real never tell me how you feel running through crowds to escape your face, my fate too close to the poisons i grew your place, replaced give myself grace rub my rose quartz slab hypothesize a better end rub my rose quartz slab hypothesize a quick end

0

Jul 28, 2024

Jul 28, 2024 at 3:03 PM UTC

munybee

rose quartz slab

nightmares in action side eyeing distraction you could never be real never tell me how you feel running through crowds to escape your face, my fate too close to the poisons i grew your place, replaced give myself grace rub my rose quartz slab hypothesize a better end rub my rose quartz slab hypothesize a quick end

13

We've bin' in this graveyard For many a year So I cough Politely To sully the still And I tender this query To you're ever wilting ear ''Can you see through me now ?'

0

Sep 24, 2016

Sep 24, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC

neth-jones

Slab

We've bin' in this graveyard For many a year So I cough Politely To sully the still And I tender this query To you're ever wilting ear ''Can you see through me now ?'

8

I sometimes I get this feeing as though I was being forced into a meat grinder. Urged to remove my fat only to spit out chunks of blood and bone instead. The cracking, clicking snaps of marrow that exudes from it like wastage. The fat engorging through the tiny weeping holes. All I can see is the repetitive nature of damage leaking from this abstraction and I feel it in my flesh. Crawling like tiny bugs, entrapping themselves and eroding their bodies into the hair on my skin. Uncultivated; I have fallen into the funnel hooked up to the grinder and I feel its body churn me. It thrusts its cold metal exterior against my lean limbs; ticking. I try to form a response when all the while this loud heavy machine is echoing against the walls, making my voice utterly meaningless. Like ground beef I am belched out only to be covered in a plastic film that pushes all the oxygen from it. I am stuck in this silhouette, shaped as a slab of meat.

0

Nov 1, 2014

Nov 1, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC

TessCalogaras

Slab of meat

I sometimes I get this feeing as though I was being forced into a meat grinder. Urged to remove my fat only to spit out chunks of blood and bone instead. The cracking, clicking snaps of marrow that exudes from it like wastage. The fat engorging through the tiny weeping holes. All I can see is the repetitive nature of damage leaking from this abstraction and I feel it in my flesh. Crawling like tiny bugs, entrapping themselves and eroding their bodies into the hair on my skin. Uncultivated; I have fallen into the funnel hooked up to the grinder and I feel its body churn me. It thrusts its cold metal exterior against my lean limbs; ticking. I try to form a response when all the while this loud heavy machine is echoing against the walls, making my voice utterly meaningless. Like ground beef I am belched out only to be covered in a plastic film that pushes all the oxygen from it. I am stuck in this silhouette, shaped as a slab of meat.

11