"burping" poems
son spreads knee blood into ******* &/or
sidewalk chalk.
mixes reds to pinks with head cracking asphalt.
of god & country.
of soggy bread in a lunch-bag; snackpack readied.
he skates.
the concussed ****** of booming youth.
omega he:
to the wolf pack outers.
breathing love of summer, he
is the son drunk on hi-c
& burping.
watching teenaged supersoakers yodel
on a bridge.
florida.
son sneaks out late to rationalize
the city’s features
under strange light & love of nightly people.
boy sculpts body out of beast,
turned dark corners.
arrives swollen.
his father erects a roofed flattop in the backyard slab
with flood light electronics taught to worship
the shred.
mother rattles the blender
on the kitchen outskirts, ***** breathed
& nearing with hugs.
blister-itched.
glossed folds of scar tissue.
those days on summer-beyond when the neighborhood pulsates.
with satellite dishes tuneforking high-frequency vibrations
from outerspace & pigeons explode.
son’s ears bleed, &
the television goes unwatched.
he snaps plank & ankle protein, refurbishing
his legs into iron-rods
or wands of summer anthem.
cold war.
he empties sugar-sweat & toxins
into the storm-drain.
essence of wet heat, skin pinched, & friend
of ghosts.
a three legged dog lay in the shade
leisurely watching the boy skate
on endless.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
Asleep alone
I got the light scare
Of a nightmare
With my plight there
Which wouldn't fight fair
Awake awaits
Chirping is all I hear
Dragging life into focus
Getting the lens clear
To see things are hopeless
My aches and pains
Are my body's refrain
To remind me of existence
Despite my mental resistance
I am lucid
I take my shoelace
And loop it
To run a new race
Timidly trembling
The violence in my dreams
Matches the silence and screams
That defile us and our team
Making the nightmares real
And the pain I can feel
So it's love I steal
A devil's deal
Hell unsealed
I can hear the vultures chirping
Or maybe they're just burping
Out the demons I ignored
My forgiveness they implored
To meet a silent scorn
Like a muted tribal horn
Banishing them to another realm
With my ostracism at the helm
Until the lonely are overwhelmed
And I see the error of my ways
Once I'm part of this chaotic haze
Practically paralyzed
I am lost
In this game
I've met the boss
He and I the same
He is a voice
Chirping in my ear
Saying I have no choice
I should give in to fear
And just drink beer
Until the end is here
Carelessly comatose
The birds that once sang beautifully
Now retreat dutifully
When they see my thoughtless anger
Turn me into a ruthless stranger
Creating danger
For those living righteously
They start fighting me
Trying to enlighten me
Which is only exciting me
Because I lack the sight to see
What the world could be
If we could harmonize
Like the birds
Not using argent lies
But soothing words
Yet there is no tax exemption
For my reluctant redemption
So my mind invented
No incentive
Soul slaughtered
The tear jerking
Birds chirping
Constantly remind me
Inside my sleep they find me
Thrusting me into a life unwinding
Through my window the sun is blinding
When I start to fear my brother
After seeing mirrors in others
Reflecting my attitude
Of ingratitude
I had a nasty nightmare
Of Camp Crystal Lake
Filled with misfit flakes
Paying for their mistakes
With pain and suffering
As deep as a submarine
Being torn apart
For every decision
Hiding their heart
To avoid incisions
And once all these losers are slain
The birds chirping start a new day
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
you see i am very very hungry, so much in fact
i burp very weirdly, yeah i feel so weird
i burp loud and i burp soft when i have a nice cream bun or a nice beef nachos
and i feel like a nice packet of chocolate biscuits
ya know to have with my coca cola
i was watching ellen degenerous and i felt like eating the pie that went in the contestants face
yeah i feel like a bag of popcorn as well as choctop at the movies
because my mouth is burping very weirdly
i don’t want to have this burping feeling
i feel like a strawberry milk and i am fighting myself saying, no, i don’t need it
the strawberry milk says yes, i do, but i don’t want a strawberry milk, it’ll just make me fat
i wanna lose weight but the burping is making me want food, i want a nice chocolate bar
and i want a bag of marshmallows, i want to have more energy
so i can be a cool person, that i am,
i know the burping really is bugging me
and i do want it to stop, STOP, making me feel this way, i want to an artist and a writer and not an eater
please leave me alone strawberry milk and leave me alone chocolate biscuits, i don’t want to eat you
i feel like a chocolate biscuit, but then i say, i will grow fat, ya know keep the fat on me
i don’t want to be fat, i want to lose weight, so leave me alone ya ****** strawberry milk and coke
i want to feel fit in my mind, so i can write and be creative
please leave me alone, junk food, i don’t want to eat you
but the junk food gets in my mind and makes me smell the nice chocolate
i know coke used to be a medicine, but i don’t wanna drink ya
i like to have a healthy lifestyle, and i want to lose this burping because
it’s the medication making me wanna eat, like donuts and vanilla slices and cream buns
and dewok chinese stir fry’s and chocolate biscuits and chocolate desserts and strawberry milk
and a large bottle of coca cola, as my medicine, I DON’T WANT THAT
i had a garden salad for lunch as well as a few glasses of water
i hate being fat, so that means at 2-30 pm, i will go for another walk, whether i feel like it or not
because i must get rid of all this food from my body, so i don’t get diabetes
so if you feel fat, because you eat too much food, push yourself into walking
and walk a regular pace, so you don’t feel sluggish
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 10:06 PM UTC
I ate all the stars last night
every single one
Then I had a comet cone for dessert
Now I have starburn
and I'm burping up rays of light
that sunburn my throat
The comet cone was too sugary
So I let it spew away
Now I have to learn
all the new constellations
And of course
it's all Confucius
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
Eat the fourth cookie.
Bring back that fuzzy green sweater with lint ***** so stubborn
that even the strongest lint roller couldn’t break the bond they have with the sweater.
I know you pick your nose in public.
You stutter every time I ask who lives on Mamaroneck Street.
You have burping contests with yourself while you’re on the toilet.
I don’t care how you clip your toenails on today’s newspaper.
I still read it after you’re done.
I love that you paint each nail in a different neon color,
eat chocolate chips and green tea for breakfast,
and salt your apples.
You cry every time you watch Titanic.
I agree Rose should’ve moved to the side and shared the plank with Jack.
You rap to Baby Got Back fifty nine times in a row.
I wish we danced to it more often.
I wish you would tell me what you write in your red book.
I know you pretend you’re Beyonce in concert while working out,
and think Michael Buble wrote haven’t met you yet for you.
I love that you keep the ticket stubs from every single movie we see in the tea jar under your bed.
You smell of cologne every time you walk into the house.
You don’t know how to whisper. You never have.
You tell me you’ll be back by noon but don’t come back till 7 p.m.
You use your knitting needles as chopsticks when we order sushi,
And don’t stamp any of the letters you send your mom.
Even though you have seven wallets, you keep all your money loose in your bag
and throw away all the pennies in the trash.
You pretend your belly-fat is a puppet that can talk and sing,
And you flirt with the waiter for extra hot sauce.
You hate it when I use your cell-phone
And every night you kiss him goodnight at the train station.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 11:19 AM UTC
a polar vortex
swirls eastward
on Siberian Tiger paws
bounding over
Appalachian Highlands
gobbling geography
gelling Great Lakes
spawning Erie blizzards
sculpting Wabash ice floes
clogging commerce all
along the Ohio River Valley
this voracious
juggernaut’s wide maw
bears icicle teeth
laughing as it swallows
Pittsburgh, Little Philly,
and a Big Apple, before
gorging itself on
generous portions
ladled into
simmering crocks
of steaming
Boston Baked Beans
growling
blue arctic
air blasts roar
bursts pipes
savages the heat
of blasting furnaces,
bubbling boilers, hot
belly stoves frantically
drinking oil, flaming gas
burning wood and
burping soot
the blistering
jet stream claws
screech a slashing
stratospheric hum
as Frigidaire blasts
swallows breath
brittles limbs
chafes cheeks
gnaws earlobes
crystallizes tears
nibbles nostrils
cubes snot
numbs toes
bites digits
diving sub zero
gradient subdues
batteries to
deaden states
delays buses
derails trains
cuts power
constricts veins
preys on
vagabonds
and animals
get the homeless
off the street!
bring the animals in
check on your
elderly neighbors
don’t get caught outside
and shut the **** door!
do you own stock
in the Public Service?
beware the polar vortex
and next months heating bill
Sonny Boy Williamson
& Otis Spann
Nine Below Zero
Oakland
1/6/14
jbm
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
It isn't sadness;
that is the biggest misconception.
People treat it like an emotion infecting a blue day,
labeling slightly soaked cheeks as this ailment of the mind.
The term is cracked like a whip in stinging insult:
weak, powerless, loser, outcast.
It is feeling a lack of feeling,
where one exists in a mental state of wanting to be anything but lethargic
yet finding nothing worthwhile inside
with which to take action:
no talent, no skill, no interest.
It is not only not believing one has any energy
but seeing nothing to which to give it,
in yourself, in others, in the world.
It is severe despondency and dejection,
consuming worlds like oozing, viscose magma
dribbling uncontrollably as burning ***** from the mountain's fiery mouth
burping filthily as is sludges onward.
It isn't sorrow, or misery, or despair.
It is inadequacy,
an ebb of interest in life,
with a sliver of interest to take it.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
Plate was full with delightful dishes
Served by the lovable hands
Kept in front of one who
Couldn't enjoy the meal so delicious.
Burp was heard somewhere nearby
every eyes followed the burp
Saw a hungry man eating leftovers
Mouthful with teasing appetite and
tears burping in his contented eyes!
©ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY GEETHA JAYAKUMAR 2014
© GEETHA JAYAKUMAR 2014
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
I ate so much cereal to mask my pain.
I ate because I was rebelling against myself.
Now I'm burping up my cereal.
It doesn't taste good anymore.
Karma
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
when you’re depressed you can get people
to mix you Arnold Palmers
or even
John Dalys
if you ask nicely
then you can get drunk
without anyone giving you ****
because all good depressed people
drown their grief with *****
and all good depressed people
die silently in doleful cloud
without drawing attention from
burping too loudly
or collapsing on a street corner
no
pain should be silent
with a tall glass of sweetened tea
a couple shots of *****
and a pencil writing furiously
the last thoughts
the last rights
the stencil of the moon
because all that will be left will be
a memory of you
standing naked in the mall screaming
I love you John Daly!!! Take me with you!!!
unfortunately
John Daly isn’t god
and he can’t zap
you from this earth
no matter how much you scream
you will always be a ghost on fire
drunk and afraid
wailing through the atmosphere
like a cat being held by its tail
you
the definition of good depressed people
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC
Cell phone shield in hand,
the mirror-me peers
into a shoddy, cracked up
dream reflector-slash-protector
as I make amends with
my agitated mitochondria and
attempt to drill miniscule holes into
paper dolls without ripping them.
So screams the wall hanging!
Banshees dance, falling
into cyclical romances as
cream colored microphones peek
out around one-way windows wondering
whether or not the smiles will hold.
Eyes still,
eyes wrinkles crinkling,
spit spray sprinkling.
Connect to the dreamers.
Push your plug into
my cracking wall sockets,
pull me apart at the seams.
So cries the doorstopper!
Knees bleed from
street corner séances
and eyes green grass
that's afraid to ask
where its clover went
but heavens, it's bent for hell.
Pray tell me, burping chickadee,
when did your teeth glass over
with a film of cerulean and
your bones start sailing
through tepid reminders that
you may end this life a failure,
swallowing Uncle Ben's rice packet trash
at the dark black bottom of the Pacific?
So sighs the statue!
Broken walkie talkies
feed red back to nothing
and knick knack hoarders note
the familiar festering of deadly bacteria
in the lungs and on the
tippy top of the tongue.
Space cadets rocket
through concrete jungles containing
apartment after
apartment after
apartment filled with
mannequins filled with
sand filled with
unevenly severed hands.
So speaks the ornament!
So declares the dashboard decal!
Sensual scholarly seekers
seem so totally hip
and read feminist poetry
to dispel the myths
and spit on the irony.
I won't dare to flatter you
with the focused attention of stone
or allow the personable picture frame
to make the secrets of
the microscopic universe known.
So suggests the ship siren!
So recites the repository!
Empty yourself into me,
adopt a new philosophy,
abandon in within two weeks
so I can see and you can seep,
your fluttering robin heart to keep
and glaciers to arrive upon
a salty brown eternal sleep.
Deliver me to the melting shopping mall!
The centennial fire alarm goes off
at the tip of the cliff,
at the end of the hall.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
What happened to the girl,
The girl that hated me with everything she had
Only to realize that we had so much in common
And that it made no sense
As to why we hated each other?
What happened to the girl,
The girl that became my best friend
And told me that nothing would come between us
No matter what?
What happened to the girl,
The girl that was there when I was broken hearted
Who told me to stop shedding tears over him,
He wasn’t worth it;
There were other fish in the sea?
What happened to the girl,
The girl that made sure I didn’t get hurt playing sports
That I wasn’t pushing my limits,
Who was worried when I wore a knee brace?
What happened to the girl,
The girl that told me when I was being stupid,
When I was about to get hurt because I wasn’t thinking,
Who told me to express myself in other ways?
What happened to the girl,
The girl that was crazy and hyper with me,
Who danced around, had burping competitions with me,
That would come up with weird combinations of food to eat
Who stayed up late and shared secrets with me?
What happened to the girl,
The girl that wrote a poem to me on my first birthday apart from you,
Who gave me a soccer ball and popcorn as a present
Who said that the distance wouldn’t mean a single thing
And we’d always have each other,
Who was terrified to tell me that she was leaving because she didn’t know how to say it?
What happened to the girl,
The girl that was my best friend
Who was always there for me no matter what
That looked after me
And made sure I didn’t get hurt or do something stupid
Who made sure I was okay?
What happened to the girl,
The girl that was my best friend?
She got lost somewhere along the way
Somewhere into an abyss
An abyss that I couldn’t drag her out of.
I guess we’re back to the beginning;
Back to you hating me.
This time though,
I don’t hate you back.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 12:14 AM UTC
Thoughts evolve--
some harden
it's not a restart--
--it's a re-tuneup
like a mitochondrion blast to the brain
unchained and unburdened
burping out old patterns
with unhinged words orbiting
Saturn's Rings
the Summer Breeze
keeps teaching me
and I to her
with burning clarity.
It's feeling silly slinging
cyclical prisons off mental cliffs
singing Hallelujah 'till New Year
in our own time
flying through space in her eyes
electrifying each other when I
sometimes understand arabic.
There's a shift in the desert sands--
feeling rain as I dance on my mind's eye
like waking up from a hallucination
as the water reignites my earthy veins
burning brightly off my tongue
breathing fresh air upon
entering another vertical 27th dimension in space
cause our smiles done gone crazy
like an azurite lightning strike to the brain!
The name whispered in my mind
by the Summer Breeze
cause I cool things down with ease
with my spiraling cyclical George Carlin cynical
thoughts marchin' causing revolution
within ourselves beating hearts bleeding art
singing blues getting lost in the dawn light sun
sparkling in our smiles smoking like a peace pipe
being passed around a campfire.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 4:15 PM UTC
From the moment you hold your baby's arms,
you will never be the same.
You might long for the person you were before,
When you had freedom and time,
And nothing, in particular, to worry about.
You will know tiredness like you never knew it before,
And days will run into days that are exactly the same,
Pull of feeding and burping,
***** changes and crying,
whining and fighting,
Naps or a lack of naps,
It might seem like a never-ending cycle.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 11:39 AM UTC
burning strangled fleece we bump chaotically
soft arrogance in morally languid pronation
leg burping fossas femoral twain (in which i'm
giddy a mustache of bristles coarse fuzz and grumbling
prickles hugely onyx( graciously bundled
to what about the huddled pulsing of EXPLODING GRIT!
in every flush molecule of bashful prim ) we girt
or flay the frightened silence scrambling gently on our scalding merriment.:',). . . . . . . . .
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 10:55 AM UTC
The chirds are burping,
the blowers are flooming.
The droys are beaming
Of firls so gine.
The dees are boing
what dees bo best.
So loys bet's do
what dees bo best.
Hind the foney.
Jul 2, 2010
Jul 2, 2010 at 8:38 AM UTC
*i vent, i'm sure you heard of the invention known as the ventilator... it's like a lung-clone-subservient of a "nanny quality" of automating the words: breathe in... breathe out... breathe in... it precursors the in and outsources the *out, there's a cult-like-scheme involving the use of... the stated tools... worthy of a suggestion that epitomises August as the month of harvest - i.e. the sun finally sets to auburn crops and **** me, isn't the bread rightly puffy?! toad-squidgy aye aye? go on, give us a burping caricature of a squeeze!*
imagine uttering the words:
i hope your mother lies
eternally run-sacked with hopes
of former ****** glory,
***** bleeding,
as if a Mongolian horde just passed
her with a glorious encore of
clapping to match...
because that's what i assert
as been done to my mother,
you don't even understand the verb
or adjective or conjunction behind
the noun.... after all, you're an African
Muslim and a pyramid builder,
a *******
jaded jock-strap and gag's
worth of you the Ben & Jerry...
praise the Koran
but don't understand that behind
each noun there's a collective grammatical
structure, **** you English political correctness,
**** you! **** YOU! have your Reagent's Street
and Oxford Street, have 'em!
behind the noun all grammatical categories
follow suite... universal noun, what category
for the particular? ape transforms into apish,
or Quasimodo or ~ape, nouns are units,
like centimetres, forget the other things, unless you:
let the shoppers drop dead like flies!
but imagine saying the words:
i hope your mother gets gang-raped by
an equivalent of a Mongolian horde;
yep, Mongolian necrophilia.
you said it to my mother, and i'm mourning,
alive, and counting.... once more... so **** you*!
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
While not everybody naps
Simply everybody craps.
If you don’t you’re a goner
I swear by my honor
There’s no substitute for it
So just get used to it.
It’s like boogers, you see
It’s not talked of openly.
The public has an allergy
Of what can be said honestly.
You can admit to burping
But must do so excusing
As if you had taken a dump
Instead of expelling a lump
Of non-poisonous gas.
Society is a ***
And while we’re at it
We live in a world here
Where ******* are reshaped
And formed by a brassiere
But no crotch bulges for men
Especially not big shaped ones.
As I have already implied
Society is a mean son-of-a-gun.
Breastfeeding an infant is
Seen as some kind of ****
But under-aged girls in bikinis?
That is why men were born.
They were put on earth to see
And love nature and its gifts.
But women in public should
Not show uncovered ****
Just remember this and
You will do very well.
Being natural is for sure
The best way to go to hell.
You must always look to
The bluenosed of society
To shape your fine sense
Of decency and propriety.
A natural person, as God made
Is surely just the Devil’s work.
Because the Devil is more
Important that that God ****
God and Santa make lists
And punish us by and bye
But Satan does it right now
And then spits in your eye.
So, be the proper citizen
And don’t do what is natural.
Following on nature’s bent
Will do you no good at all.
Even though the Bible won’t
Agree to this simple plan
Just look around you to learn
What is in society’s plan.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
tease and taunt
pick and poke
scratch and maul
stab and choke
bring us this
bring us that
hello brother
fill my hat
merry christmas
help a ******
seasons’ greetings
stuff your monkey
i want i pad
i love i mad
i spend i fly
i live i die
text me facebook
email me twitter
**** champagne
and roll in glitter
where is love
an epic fail
why is lindsay
not in jail
give me more
give me more
i want to be
a retail *****
mommy mommy
why is santa
burping loud
to **** mylanta
shred the paper
back to work
new year’s yay
go beserk
another year
of joy and love
return this item
push and shove
was here first
you stupid ****
wait there’s oprah
let’s all hug
holiday wish from
me to thou
holy hell
shoot me now
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
do writhe and hue the absolute walls of thy slanderous landscape
burping turgidly a draft of flexing notation
and i cup thy lyrics in their burning varnish
)a sea scalloped with drunk wondering breath
)inexorable limber teeth chomp gloriously the pale bit
of dapper sunlight
peaking bravely
afore his bashful explosion
on the hard water
patiently housed by your ungilt frame
my crumb most luscious a fair fairy of murdered perfection
thou art all the excellence. herein contained this pathetic
welt of humanity. i am ever only
,
so far a star in your onyx vestige
and more
and more
and
more
Dec 6, 2010
Dec 6, 2010 at 10:19 AM UTC
Some weeping in the silt of river grass,
A speckled black amphibian intoned
And lured blueberry girl with yearning groan,
She understood the plea as clear as glass.
Beneath the living mud she scooped him out,
The burping toad was cradled in her palm
And sank within a meditative calm
As she observed him rapt as one devout.
He humbly sat with wide-eyed child in blues
Who held him close and thought she knew his core
Unfolding from the water to the shore
Enclosing all the world in murky hues.
Her mother called her name from hollow home
But still she peered beneath his witch's eyes
And, twinned, the souls did glimpse each others' guise.
She sympathized, so buried him in loam
And ran, a spot of blue on open heath
To where her parents cooked a windswept feast;
Though she might grow, she'd not forget the beast
Who lived above the water, and beneath.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
Sharpest incisions never hurt at first
Only the cold, stark shock
The snapshot of gaping flesh
The temporary absence of pain
Lending necessary time cushions
Beckoning denial . . .
Til delayed despair descends
Overflowing through lips and eyes
Bursting blood vessels
Bubbling & burping out of
Tear ducts & cracks in skin
Til, empty now
Nerve endings dry and wither
Mutilated muscles cure into jerky &
LAST LIQUIDS congeal into flaky crusts
******* the orifices
-- Quivering --
As LAST GASSES **** out the
Top and bottom, dissipating --
Silence settles after
LAST ECHOES . . .
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
I waited in one of the cities dark and dangerous alleyways. The vile odors. The Gads knows what forming puddles around my best leather boots. The ones with the shine to blind the eye.
There she was. A common strumpet. Drunkenly making her way towards me. Jingling her purse of meager coins.
Blood money.
Obtained by logging men on the heads whilst they took their fill of her. Only to have her sell them to sea Captain's that do not ask questions of where their crew came from. Or whether they were willing.
I could feel the evil in the air about her. I heard her heart beat and felt her blood pulse.
She was delicious.
Not a drop wasted.
As I sit here, the thought comes to me, that I shall
be ******
But wait! I am already ****** and I thrive within it. I not only thrive...I revel in it.
Now where is that odious, rangy, mouse burping kitten gotten off to.
GADS! She is up the draperies once again!
I will calmly go get the ladder, which I had to buy just for these occasions. I will place it up against the drapery staff.
I will climb up. Gently coaxing the little flea bitten darling to me. She will hiss and claw like the ***** she is.
But, alas. I adore her so.
~Lord Kellington
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 3:55 PM UTC
Deep down, I'm just scared that I'll one day be old with a cigarette in my hand, and not a soul to light me up.
And glaring death into bitter night,
I left my heart on the stone altar,
a peace offering to shadowy figures
clothed in tears and linen,
that they may receive it
and be pleased.
I ran,
I flew down the mountain side,
wind in my ears and
blood on my hands,
hysterical laughter ringing in
the hollows of my skull.
At the foot of the mountain,
centered in the valley,
a well stood, stoney eyed
and heartless
(the well was me and I was the well)
waiting for the rushing noise
to hush and
the shadow gods to be quieted
by the pumping of a deadened heart.
My red tinged eyes
gazed forward, downward,
into the ever sloping well,
and all was quiet.
The blood dripped scarlet pearls
from my hollowed chest,
and after an eternity the splash echoed
from the walls of the cold well.
The sound reverberated
through air cold as ice,
anchoring me in its grip,
soft as a kiss.
I fell.
I let the echo pull me
into a well's unbroken water,
eyelids forced open over empty sockets,
wind burping into my cheeks,
forcing me into an unforgiving smile.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 9:40 AM UTC