"menacingly" poems
Tomato:
Big, juicy, red
INSANE!
Sneaks up upon unsuspecting
Unreliable
MATH TUTORS!
A terrible fight ensues!
Tomato or tutor?
Tutor or tomato?
Tomato knows no math.
Tutor has no seeds.
A standoff.
Tutor and tomato growl menacingly,
Circling one another
Like two pieces of meat
On a microwave turntable.
Suddenly, their rhythmic dance of Hate
Is broken
By the rhythmic sound of incoming
Imminent
Inescapable
Doom.
Tutor and tomato are trampled
Like a TV dinner
On the freeway.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
Arriving at the entrance of the ancient temple the white rabbit covered his ears. Shattering glass from a high-pitched vibration he leaped away from a falling chandelier.
“I must find our beloved Harvest Moon."
The white rabbit said to himself. With stern affirmation, a dark fog churned then into the vortex he was consumed.
He stopped at the entrance of the temple courtyard; everyone was frozen like statues.
"What has she done to all of you?"
He cried, then pulled out a magic rune deflecting a hail of daggers. The white rabbit looked up at a floating cocoon and saw the shadow witch hovering over the temple roof. Pale skin and veins glowing red, she was draped in a black tattered robe. With a sinister look and a Crown of Fire on her head the shadow witch spoke.
“White rabbit, white rabbit the Harvest Moon is dead!"
The white rabbit took leaped back then cried out.
"This cannot be so!"
Then he pulled from his bag a magic scroll and read the words written in gold.
"I ask the wind to protect me from this dark magic despair"
Then he conjured a circle of trees in a water globe. The witch streaked across the air and swung around her jet-black hair. Then she commanded an infestation of spiders to climb inside the trees and explode. Barricading himself inside a magic bubble he was protected from the onslaught of shrapnel. The white rabbit grabbed the water globe, leaped into the air, and disappeared in a puff of amber smoke. The shadow witch pulled out a blood-red pearl and murmured an incantation.
"Clever white rabbit, I shall find you in the invisible world"
The white rabbit snapped his fingers then magically appeared behind her. He snatched off the Crown of Fire from her head then whispered the following words.
"How dare you use dark magic on me!"
She jumped in fear spinning around, then summoned a devil hound. The white rabbit raised the water globe and merged it with the crown. A shock wave of light pulsated in the air then the witch menacingly yelled.
“Take him down!”
The white rabbit saw in his peripheral view the hound lunge to attack. But he was too cunning for this, with a symbolic wave and a vigorous slash the hound was severed in two.
The shadow witch glared, then cried out.
“We shall meet again white rabbit; I promise you I'll be back!”
Then she summoned a fiery cauldron and vanished with a blinding flash.
The white rabbit ran inside the temple and approached the Harvest Moon. He stared with eyes full of tears and sorrow at a beautiful princess with hair long and blue. A beautiful creature he so desired, the love he had for her was true. He opened his bag and pulled out the globe which was now encased with the Crown of Fire.
"I brought you a gift from the shadow witch"
Then he smashed the globe and with a flash of light, the Crown of Fire was finally free. The white rabbit held the princess and spoke.
"I have always served you because I love you and now, I command you to come back to life!"
Then he placed the Crown of Fire on her head igniting a ring of light. The white rabbit looked down to see the Harvest Moon Princess opening both of her eyes.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
A secret society founded as a dark, heavy rainstorm
loomed menacingly one night in November of 1888
over Boston University; Sarah Ida Shaw,
Eleanor Dorcas Pond, Isabel Morgan Breed
& Florence Isabelle Stewart sneaking in their
nightgowns into the dusty attic where Florence
swore she had seen three black cats sitting
in the rocking chairs talking; to humor their friend,
the others followed her up into the dark attic:
meaning only to frighten Florence, Eleanor
pulled a kitchen knife; the uncomprehending
Isabel & Sarah forcing the terrified [so they thought]
Florence to her knees; while there, eating the *****
of the knife-wielding Eleanor, who raising her stiff
nightgown told the others to do likewise until they all
were satisfied, shouting - meow meow meow meow -
old lady Murphy hollering up the attic steps: 'who's up there?'
the three girl giggling their little heads off running
past her down the stairs; Florence nearly tripping,
coming down a few moments later, also grinning
but silently to herself.
'what are u girls doing up there?' -
'playing w/ the cats,' said Flo, slipping past her;
'Cats! Cats!' shouted the old witch, rushing up the
stairs raising her broom [from that evening Delta Delta Delta (ΔΔΔ)
has met to lick talking black cats in secret college sorority rituals]
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
.
•my
arms point
to the sky•
a gesture
frozen in eter-
nity•un- fazed as
the clouds whisper a
lie• rumours of rain that
never came quickly• prickles
protrude menacingly •threaten-
ing all who would stray too close•
baseless gossip that masquerade
as pleasant- ry•to deviate me from
the path i chose•still i stand
here...duelling the sun
•in a land scorched
barren•search-
ing for hope
when there's
really none•
here i stand...
lonely and
drought
stricken•
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
Relax, says a voice,
and menacingly: one two --
she starts to count down.
Feb 22, 2025
Feb 22, 2025 at 2:50 AM UTC
She stands at the window
a fine white stream of goodevil
trickling down her chin
Heaving against the pane
heaving against the pain
She longs for a killer breeze
from the die-hard fan
Yellow-eyed seconds slither out the clock
hi S S ing in rhythm as they crawl
On the table
the used core of a once
juicy red delicious
hourglass figure, cyanide hearts and all
She is aware of her nakedness
Moon ogles on
bleeding silver from stab wounds
by dagger branches
awaiting a crack in the window
through which to enter
Tree of Life towers menacingly overhead
He walks in
AdamAnt
intelligent designer suit
businessgod attire
briefcase in hand
brief case in point
He knows
She knows
Time knows
Electric Goliath stirs in the depths
Ego awakens
lifts its rod
beckons to waves of children behind it
parts the folds of red sea
charges head on
Rides long and hard
hooves pounding the riverbed
Ready
to pull out
on the other side
Branches find their crack
Enraged Goliath stumbles
Ego trips
relentless walls close in
It goes under in a seizure
frothing at the mouth
drowning
as its children swim
Time holds the couple's breath in suffocating grip
Tree binds Life to a cell
at the center of her flower prison
Pane, reflecting
pain, reflected
Window souls mirror soul's Window
Branches regain their higher dwellings
Exhumed goliath stirs on a distant shore
She stands at the window
a fine white stream of goodevil
trickling down her shin
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC
He was only three foot tall, but
He wanted to be like his
Famous daddy
"The pirate" long bob
Plated
Silver
Toe
A renowned pirate or so
He told me.
So he looked around the house
to what he could find,
A hook was out of reach
As it was dangerous you know,
it could take an eye out
or if trod on cut your toes,
He would have defiantly have shed a
Tear
Or
Three,
So he found a spoon, not
Gold
or
Silver
Not plated precious,
It was copper it would have to do.
So he put his hand up his sleeve,
Holding the spoon quite
Menacingly,
I'll scoop your ice cream
From right under your nose,
One scoop,
Two scoop,
Three,
"Ill bounce the bowl upon your head"
"Then run so you never knows it was me"
"Who had eaten your desert from"
"Right under your nose you see"
He giggled and smiled a child's grin,
What next does a pirate need to be
"King of the sea"
A hat he thought,
As he looked around his fathers hats
Covered his head,
He walked in to
Table
&
Chair,
For it was to big over his eyes,
He was unable to see.
He bounced Off the door, the bed, the
Window sill too, with holes cut he still
Was unable to see properly,
So he got a sock with a patch on the heal
Putting it on his little head
looked in the mirror amused
By what could be seen.
I need one more thing
To be like me pa..
A ship to sail the high sea,
But he was only tiny 3 foot tall was he,
So he looked around
Finding a table in the yard,
Discarded but could be used by he.
"A sail was needed"
A table cloth tied to the back legs
To catch the gusts of wind yar see,
A crew was needed??
But there was only room for
Him
And his parrot
Reginald,
*******
*******
He would squawk at me,
A I dry one given and a pat on the
Head from me.
I was known as a captain on
My
Green
Sea,
Plundering the apple tree
The raspberry bush
All the berries were now mine
That I could see,
I wanted to be like my father when I grew up
But lets be realistic I'm three foot
"I'm four and three months"
Who would be scared of little spoon pirate me.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
There’s a dark grotto
Under the sea
With shelves and shelves
Of bottles
Clear, glass bottles
All of my secrets
A carefully watched castle
The middle of a concentric series of impassable walls
Surrounded by a forest of kelp
With razor-sharp teeth
And then the narwhals
The narwhal guards
Armed to the teeth with halibut-slicing knives
Their three-meter horns
Gleaming in the moonlight
Guarding
All of my secrets
Skeletons, trespassers of yore,
Strewn about the seafloor
Bones picked clean
By the scavenging *****
No one can enter
No one can leave
The grotto with the shelves
Shelves and shelves of clear, glass bottles
All of my secrets
But as for the *****
For the first time in centuries
The sunlight warms the waters
Melts the kelp
Kisses the narwhals
Buries the bones and torments the scavengers
Clearing away the darkness
A nonstop route through the castle
Protecting
All of my secrets
The tendrils of photons creep along
Wary
Ready for a fight
The grotto growls menacingly
Unguarded
For the first time in centuries
But upon the first touch -
Light meets stone -
The sea shudders
Ecstasy
And in repayment for salvation
Out come the bottles
Floating to the surface
Bathing in the light
All of my secrets
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC
It was the boys’ bath night
and you had bathed
and were drying yourself
with the white towel
they had given you
when the bathroom door flew open
and Anne stood there one-legged
in her pink flowered nightdress
perching on her crutches like a hawk
her eyes bright and dark
a smile lingering on her lips
well ****** me
she said
what a sight
for a girl’s lovesick eyes
and she entered the bathroom
and pushed the door shut
behind her with her bottom
almost uncrutching herself
in the process
you pulled the towel
tight around you
and stared at her
it’s the boys’ bath night
you muttered
girls aren’t allowed in
while boys bath
she moved over
to the mirror
and gazed at herself
you’re right
she said
I’m not a boy
I’m a tight titted girl
and she laughed
and crutched herself
over towards you
making you flatten yourself
against the wall
gripping the towel with one hand
and holding her back
with the other
and she leaned down
and kiss the back of your hand
then looked you deep in the eyes
what have you got hidden
behind that towelling skirt then?
she said
and you gripped the towel tighter
with both hands
and she menacingly moved
one hand cautiously towards the towel
her armpits gripping
the crutches tightly
as she moved
you shouldn’t be in here
you said
I’m not in there yet
she laughed and grabbed
the towel away with a force
that took her and the towel
toppling to the bathroom floor
where she lay
like an overturned beetle
you stood naked
your hands covering
what your father
called your toolbox
gazing down at her struggling
to get up
well don’t just stand there
like a prize parrot
help pick me up
she said
and so with one hand covering
you knelt down to help lift her up
but then she pulled you
down beside her
and laughed
and her laughter echoed
around the walls
but then she paused
and put a hand
over her mouth
hearing Sister Bridget’s
nearby footsteps
and noisy calls.
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 3:16 AM UTC
Bathing thyself in Lethe,
not ingesting, forgetting,
yet not reminiscing
on thyne torment,
though immersing
thyself in it nonetheless,
persisting on pain and uncertainty.
El océano sin agua,
ese is what thou art,
unable to breathe,
unable to control,
longing for a hand
to halt the quiver.
In the midst of submission,
thy capture in the seductive
dance of the monster,
thou utterst sólo una palabra,
“help”; the first and final request,
yet thy time in Lethe
were much too lengthy,
not one hand shall be lent
to those who menacingly,
cherish death.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 6:19 AM UTC
I wish I could wish I was more in the moment and less in the haze of a memory
Find me in a nonregulation tankless sensory deprivation simulation to deep dive into why my history grips so tightly
It's not lost on me that it feeds off of the litany of my bad energy, a never ending supply and still greedy
Can't say it's a mystery, not completely, hesitation is hard wired in on the heals of every lesson in misery
Honestly it's never a surprise, not really, the first complication to arise naturally is my own reactionary jurk of the knee
Even though that's never worked out for me, never seem to benefit any, quite the contrary actually
It's entertainment for my inner dialogue, continuously laughing menacingly as it nurtures this three-ring calamity
And I'm left to recite a sorry apology with the conviction of a hostage on VHS tape through a grainy TV
So why do I do it? Clearly it's not a chosen journey but rather some hopeless, helpless destiny
One I prayed would never find me but it was as timely as untimely could be
And now, this is me
©2023
Jul 8, 2023
Jul 8, 2023 at 7:22 PM UTC
I exist in the abysmal state of solitude, where I, whose existence survives in profound literary pieces, could fall short of mere words penetrated—cast against me. Where would I be if I can't find the right words to say?
In front of me is a sweet orange juice menacingly teasing me with its dazzling pumpkin hue. Beside it is the apple pie I swore my life I would never put in my mouth. Yet, the sun glistened brighter when I gently put my fork down and absurdly ate it with my eyes closed.
The sadness that lingers deep within enthralls me more, as I swiftly swallow and digest it without tasting all its flavors—just so I can return to reality. I try to keep it all together, even as my spirit is crushed by the thoughts that seep in, nipping at the edges of my soul—through the cracked window of my vision, and the half-drunk orange juice. These thoughts keep coming in, like an intense downpour after a shower. I have tried to write this simply, yet I could never find the right words to say.
I could never forgive myself.
Feb 7, 2025
Feb 7, 2025 at 11:57 AM UTC
I stand on the shore, my feet sinking in the sands,
My hair tousled wild in winds hustling hands,
Covering my face, veiling my eyes,
Distantly, I hear the seagulls, their yearning cries.
I grip firmer and hold myself tight,
In dusk's diminishing, dwindling twilight.
I watch the waves lunge at me -
Overwhelming, menacingly.
But as they race to the shore, reaching my feet
They drench me, turn back and then recede.
I see another wave, I yearn to move a step behind.
Fear and uncertainty fill my troubled mind.
But I still stand, stand my ground,
Unmindful of the sounds,
Of the winds and the waves,
In a trance, lost, nature's slave.
I nearly fall, my balance lost,
Taken by surprise, by waves tossed.
But I still stand, stand with unsteady feet,
Where the land and waters meet.
I, on the seashore, a speck, besides a sea so vast -
I know that each wave will rest and it too shall pass.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC
The National Security Advisor
In all his frumpery and trumpery
Waves his combat moustache menacingly
Backed up by each nuclear incisor
He threatens Iran with his “hell to pay”
Word missiles through his bristles - “We will come after you!”
Omitting to say (through his ****** hairdo)
His child will not go, but yours will – hooray!
For his own combat record is no joke:
He bravely fought the Cong around Fort Polk
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
Thunderclouds booming like a military drum
Rain is pelting with a solitary hum
Lightning is crackling like the breaking of bones
The sky is attacking rough enough to break stones
The sun was a blood clot, before in the sky
a burning ball of fire that could gouge out your eyes
The grass was scorching, like needles beneath feet
Until the sun set, admitting untimely defeat
And the sky rolled yonder, like an enemy crouched
An ominous shadow till the war cry was announced:
Ear-splitting boom, that rattles in your gut
Louder than a gun, and it stuns, now you run -
But there's nowhere to run
There's nowhere to hide
From the galloping dread, like a torrential tide
Its coming for you, twisted hand of fate
shaped like a lightning bolt, straight out of the gate
The faces that peer, innocently knowing
That the sky-god's wrath was menacingly growing
They're scattered across planes, barren as ice
As the enemy cuts across them, with a single clean slice
Unwavering is fate, that tossed out their doom
And such is life and death,
As sudden
As unpredictable as a thunder's boom.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
I step into the beige cold tub,
Turn on the tap to hot,
It sputters for a moment, then bursts onto my skin,
It hurts, but that's what I like.
Steam rises around me,
Capturing me in a cloud,
Taking me away, allowing me to look at my own self,
To ponder all of my life.
Nothing else to think of really,
When all you see are three yellow walls,
And a translucent curtain, I'm sheltered inside a clear warm bathe bubble,
I think of my love, and my life.
I look down to the water pooling around my toes,
My reflection looks back at me menacingly,
My humanity starring me in the face, each waiting for the other to blink,
Each one of us fighting ourselves until death.
That is our struggle,
To hate ourselves, to hate everyone else,
But still find love, compassion, empathy,
Our urge to survive against our instinct to care.
I let the boiling water fall over my head,
Burning my cheeks, waking me up,
Tears trickling down my whole body,
Feeling alive,
A lonely human standing in a hot shower.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
Youths, the sight of thy pants menacingly looming over the waistband of your ill fitting trousers doth not fill my heart with joy this fine afternoon.
Nor doth the stench of your rancid marijuana which oozes from your pores and combines with your ever present lynx masked body odour.
I see you stroll with all the grace of a strategically shaved ape,
as you migrate with your "Fam" to linger like wastrels outside the Spar in the hope of cheap cider, stolen smokes and easy girls...
And I wonder at the devoid nature of our future while it rests on your rounded, work shy, knuckle dragging shoulders.
I fear the brush thats tars us all.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 9:34 AM UTC
I. The Fireflies
There was once
a time when the fireflies
had made a home out of me.
One evening,
long after the sun
had surrendered itself
to the hazed horizon
and the pregnant moon,
they had come to my window,
golden freckles of light
twinkling playfully
in the dimness.
What exactly
prompted their gravitation
towards me,
I will never be entirely certain of,
though I have my theories.
Maybe it was the
warm glass of milk
sitting on my bedside table.
Or maybe
they had simply mistaken
the peppers of stardust
laced atop my eyelashes
for their own kin.
Or perhaps–
and most likely–
it had been
the murmur of poetry
on my lips:
…watch how they dart about the trees
in whimsical harmony,
how they rise up towards the dark sky
in the hopes that, someday,
they too will become one with
the constellations that blink
so brilliantly in the blackness.
Yes,
Perhaps this what had captivated them so–
a homage to the fireflies themselves.
Perhaps this is
why they had drifted towards me,
as if in some fanciful trance,
weightless as paper lanterns.
And how sweet they were
as they twirled about the ringlets
in my hair and
nuzzled their small frames
against my cheek
and fingertips.
How sweet they were–
that is,
until the bees came.
II. The Bees
They made lightning bugs
of my fireflies,
whose soft luminescence was replaced
with a violent stream of sparks,
one resembling something close
to the bursting of a fluorescent bulb
And so came the lightning,
the firefly’s only defence against
the approaching swarm,
their only ammunition
in the impending battle:
fireflies versus
bees,
both in want
of my nectared
marrow.
But the lightning
was no reasonable match
for the bees,
with their
large, gelatinous figures
and the persistence
of their stabbings;
annihilated were the fireflies,
carcasses crumbling to soot,
their innards,
still glowing,
smeared across my collarbone
like war paint.
Victorious and
humming menacingly,
the bees then crawled
into my ears
and my mouth
where they proceeded
to feast on their spoils and plunders:
the honey,
that they so cruelly
stole from me.
And once the honey was gone,
so were the bees,
bellies full,
antennae sticky,
their use for me
fulfilled and therefore
discarded.
III. The Spiders
The final hosts
were drawn to
what the bees had left behind:
the inconsolable emptiness
of my being,
They marked their territory
with cobwebs–
spun carelessly
into my arteries
and windpipe.
Breath dwindling and
heartbeat diminishing
I tried to remember the fireflies–
the light–
as the arachnophobia
threatened to devour me.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 7:19 PM UTC
Cumulonimbus
Growls above menacingly
Snarls at the terrene
Impaled by lightning
Howls in anguish, pierced and split
Bleeds thick drops of rain
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 6:23 AM UTC
The dissonance in the air
visiting flashes sonically weaving trembling tales
of flash floods and brushfires. intertwined between and beneath
leathery scales, dorsal fins and rat tails.
Intimate whispered coded messages
massaging ear drum lines menacingly, scratching the passages, cruising through each hall.
tapping at every door.
With a gravely groan, reciting a indecipherable buddhist koan.
Laugh as you may
The moon will leave
Without a notice
We'll be without
Another day.
The dissonance in the air
leaving car crashes and birthday bashes in shambled states of stasis
smiling bits of shrapnel suspended in howling fits of laughter
smoldering hordes of children melting under summer suns
all while a paramedic belts out birthday songs
and a clown juggles displaced screws and cogs.
Disasters and dances have more in common than
dispatchers and discjockeys.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:45 AM UTC
My cat is crazy
He pelts around the room
He arches his back menacingly
And his tail looks like a broom.
As he side winds towards me
He looks like a furry crab
He will come within a foot of me
Until I make a grab!
Then he's off on his assault course
Tearing round the place
He really thinks he is fierce
And gets right in my face!
If I should make a sudden move
It really is quite funny
He shoots straight up into the air
Just like a leaping bunny!
Then as soon as he has started
His stamina lets him down
He's ready to surrender
My lovely, furry clown
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC
Suddenly it feels numb
My body restive
My words gone dumb.
Muted grievances against the window pane
Are wiped away as insane.
Something inside, yet miles away
Resonates a perfectly eternal dismay.
Sweet are the tears that embrace,
Coursing down the contours of the loving face.
I ask myself,
“Why can I never write about important things?
About Philosophy, Politics and similar meanderings?”
Reasonable things.
Inklings of promising meanings.
Instead I struggle with my tempestuous heart,
Unimportant to the world, yet the most excruciating art.
The pain and the glory
Is the never-ending selfish story
My childish mind can recall.
Despite all this wondrous melancholy,
I always choose to repeat my folly.
Up and about to write I go,
There’s too much heart material to forego.
I lie under those dry lifeless branches,
Sit, stand or walk around in hunches.
Only the grass understands
Under the skin in innumerable strands
Pain is the only conspicuous poison
Reigning the veins, arteries,
Defining the venison.
I couldn’t look at you much
Since you drank from my cup
Travesties of my past break-up
And chose to inflict it upon me again
To see if our old life
Could be regained.
But nonchalance has a way of defeating you.
It looks odd on you,
Like an unaccustomed parvenu.
Love wrecks your heart like the shivering of an earthquake.
When my insides tear, shrivel and menacingly rake.
You realize that your nonchalance was odd indeed.
I was the friend in need
You fled the deed.
That could have saved me
From depression.
Earthquakes don’t mean any harm.
They simple do their job
And leave destruction in the wake.
Naïve.
Nonchalant.
Dilettante.
They are not exactly wrong.
No culpable intentions.
Only humming a deleterious song.
Yet
We seldom recover when the grounds from below
Shake.
I thought you were the soft breeze, drizzling rain.
But turns out,
You are an earthquake.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC
Seas swallow me as I rock
Walking on the walls I can't feel a thing
As the ceiling flies away from me
Your body is too big to hold
The trees swarm around me menacingly
Like wooden legs on Nazi's
As the aliens spiral down from the stars
I look for you, I'm crying now
Your eyeballs float away from my sobbing hands
I can't wake up
Wake me up
I'm not really here can you tell?
The hickeys don't make me wince this is a dream
After all
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
in the distance
Really ?
today is July 6
a slight breeze flutters
through sweetly bedded petunias
my shirt waves freely
after a long day
of goodbye
your
battle wearied body
in limbo
every hug ,tear and laugh
your legacy of love
spans the globe
fills rooms
with memories
and regrets
that clock
is not your friend
it ticks away
menacingly
marking the last moments
spent in our midst
seems
not that long ago
we all watched
firecrackers
together
on your front porch
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Her Heart Lay Heavy And Scarred In Her Ribcage,
Her Bones Bleached From The Fluorescent Light,
The Light Of The Examination Table Of Fate,
Her Destiny Proding Her Endlessly,
Searching For Something Which Lies So Special,
On The Rough Skin Of Her Finger Tips,
Demons Who Roam The Hallways Littered,
With Industrial Blue Lockers,
Hide In Every Corner--Waiting To Destroy Her,
Their Yellowed Teeth Bared In Her Direction,
A Pebble In A Gravel Pit--They Mean Nothing,
She Scowls Back--Wires Zig Zagging Across Her Teeth,
Muscles Squirming Underneath Her Skin,
Scarred Skin--Menacingly Beautiful,
Her Hard Working Heart Pounding In Her Head,
Knuckles White With Frustration,
The Bystanders Wait For The Duel,
Eyes Raised Surreptitiously Underneath A Heavy Brow,
Some Cry--Some Tingle With Anticipation,
Then It Began,
Her Brawl With Those Blackened Souls,
Some Of The Bystanders Joined,
Sinking Their Teeth Deep Into Tainted Flesh,
Bruising Veins Infested With Plauge,
Sacrificing Themselves For Her
Her Heart Lay Heavy That Day My Friend,
It Lay Heavy In Her Bleached--Cracked Ribs,
Veins Tired From Lives Before,
Yet She Still Roams This Very World
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC