"painlessly" poems
I fell asleep
To the smell of antiseptic,
Sterilizer, biogesic,
And the cold touch of metal
Rods that only seem
To grow colder
With the touch of hospital
Left in the student's
Ward - a whistle
Permeates the silence
Of seniors
Painlessly sleeping away
Hours upon
Hours until graduation -
A coming of age -
An escapism from past papers
And teachers who have
Themselves given up
On them.
And the lights you
See are as bright
And as empty as those blinking
Feebly
In that of the school doctor's
Office, one not really
Blinking more of
Washed, and supported
Wobbling by daylight
Seeping in through peeling blinds,
Unable to see too much -
The headaches and stomachaches
Have rendered him numb
To the feeling.
And lunch comes
And out blows the whistle to
Signify the end
Of playtime for
The young ones, start
Of playtime for
The older ones,
Whistle blowing muffled
By the septic tank glass
Doors of this sacred outhouse,
Wards muffling the cries of children
As they flee the quadrangle,
Once mad, twice elated,
Still innocent, untired,
Not needing to fake sick
And rest their heads softly
Upon thin soft beds with
Towels wrapped haphazardly
Behind their backs,
Nostalgia, it was
Laughter, I swear it was louder
When we used to run,
When our eyes lit up like
The sun petering in through
The doctor's orifices,
When our bruises and bumps
Smelled like betadine,
Not sleep
And cups of sterile water downed
To mask the scent of
Fake cough syrup,
And cuts gotten from fiddled syringes,
Bruised ankles
Bent over undersized beds,
And not running over
Uneven pavement,
Ankles brushing tablecloth,
Schoolbag,
Basketball and frisbee,
And the screaming.
Oh, how I miss
The screaming.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
A Softer Way to Die
We live and study life
We pray that somehow
God changes his rules.
No one wants to die
No one wants to follow
Those complicated laws;
I mean no lie-ing - no steal-ing
no *** - before marriage no
Fornicate-ing, no kill-ing
No lust-greed or defil-ing the earth.
Amen.
All we can do now is try to find
" A softer way to die".
Pick your battles...
There are many ways to die.
I asked, God why?
When mom threw a
"Monkey wrench" in my world
Answering - "We all have to die"
I immediately winked at God...
Thinking to myself ( not I) .
Gave him a little nudge;
Sidebar God : I said to God
Adamantly "I do not want to die"
"Can you change the rules "?
I never heard back from him
On that subject..
I went to him again
God "Can you at least
Keep me with a mom-
I said "So that I won't be an
Orphan like Shirley Temple" ?
He did get back to me on that
And Mom is Alive and well
Plan A. ( living forever)
Still not executed.
Once again contemplating
Thoughts on how I want to die.
I could not think of a pleasant way
To die, none that seemed appealing.
Nor any options that would be fun.
hmmm, eat myself to death.
Playing chicken with the train,
Might prove thrilling.
As time grew nigh
My thoughts continued
....On a softer way to die.
Childhood gone, middle age gone'
Old age approaching fast and furious
Destroying me like a sudden
Approaching hurricane...
This storm knocked out my lights
Memory gone now..
Forgetting my life- my loved ones
Forgetting my friends,
Children,and foes alike
Forgetting my wrongs - my sins
and accomplishments all.
Everything's gone. So now
What do I do ?... How can
I rewrite my life,Take account..
Of that which I remember not.
The realities of my existence
Has been wiped out from
The Forest Fires burning
In my minds eye.
Have no recordings of
Who loved me or of who
I shall never forgive.
How will I know that I ever even lived.
Taking my dark blank pages into
The after life- My shadowy
Existence ends. I feel no pain
I Have no thoughts,
Have nothing to contemplate.
For I have asked to live forever
Or that I die a,softer way
Forgetting to eat
Forgetting to drink-
Forgetting to swallow
Forgetting to breath...
Forgetting this life-
I close my eyes and fade away.
painlessly
© Vicki Acquah
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
A moment in time and space,
a white scar against a fawn hand
indigo iris inside a colorless eye,
and burning rose into pale cheeks.
This was permanence, before it was
torn apart by its own user,
in anxious desperation for the
imminent future, which promised
absolutely nothing to her.
And they wondered why she couldn’t
get on with the others.
More to be seen and less to be
heard,
a quiet life to be lived out,
alone; painlessly.
Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 5:27 PM UTC
Who am I?
I don’t see who I thought I was in the reflection of this mirror.
I see a girl with faded lines at her mouth, the remnants of her laughter.
I see the crinkles at the corners of her eyes; her eyes used to smile.
Her mouth is a straight line, her laugh only a memory.
Her eyes are tired and glazed, uninterested and unfocused.
Where did that girl go?
I feel her inside, I want to smile and laugh,
But I don’t have the strength to try.
Everything is a task, an arduous task that I cannot attempt
Lest I fail, for then the pain of failure adds to my pile of emotions.
I am exhausted; I cannot feel anything anymore.
Why can’t she try to return?
I have saved every last drop of pain, stored it in my soul.
No one should have to feel pain, I’ll feel it for them.
Everyone should be happy, even if I am taunted by their joy.
She knows that I have reasons to be happy, she makes me aware.
But happiness is energy better offered to the “common good”.
How did I lose her, anyways?
She was adventurous, that girl I used to be; she had ***** so to say.
She let herself feel freely, falling in love painlessly, easily.
That love turned against her, threw away every definition of trust she knew.
I had to protect her, hide her from the pain.
So I put on my armor, and stood strong in her place.
When did she disappear?
She stayed hidden for a while, a warmth trying to break my cold heart.
She’s the smile that cracked my stone face, if only for a moment.
But she was pushed away to make pain easier to handle.
She got tired of trying to make me feel emotion.
She’s still there, deep down, but she hasn’t put forth any effort in a long while.
What will bring her back?
The fleeting moments of giggles and cuddling,
The warmth of a hand over mine,
The strength of two arms enveloping me in a hug,
The patience of a voice that brings her out of me;
Love.
Love will her back to me.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Gazing, grazing, wailing aimlessly
Shifting upon the consciousness, I graze the astral plane painlessly
Facing, hearing, being
I am the light
I am the dark
Energy fuels the drive
Deeper goes the heart
Endlessly through the wormhole I strive
Finishing thoughts as if they weren't even alive
They are
They are truly here, upon my spectrum
Our spectrum
In this mere state do I experience such an alarming, yet calm appifany
What was before is me
What is now is me
What will be future is me
As insane as it seems
Time seems simple
As I indulge the energy, straight to my heart, then temple
Soul and all
Ego is at fall
Walk with us on the journey
Your mind be mine
My mind be's yours
The the equality of fuel that is burning
The worlds around us are turning
Never the best are we?
No
All there is, is searching
Walk with us through the symphony of harmony
No hurting you, no harming me
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
Mosquitoes never lie,at least when they come close you know they want you.Even if its just for a moment.
Mosquitoes never lie,immediately they painlessly insert their mouth into you,you know its just you and them,no third party involved
And for that moment its just you both,you gain nothing from the mosquito except its presence,it gains a food source
Then as swiftly as it came it goes,leaving behind an itch and a realization.....
Oh wait
Mosquitoes do lie,
Just like you
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
Slivers of unintended new experiences
Stuck painlessly into our feet
Moving along the same splintered wooden dock
We both have trodded before
Too safely to have carried any scar tissue
But now our earth touchers resemble
Porcupines that when touched
Refuse to release our quills
But offer a story or two to remember we've been here before instead
Of losing the memories we've gained.
And when we finally pick the wood out
it fashions into a fence gate that opens up to
New stories new experiences
New feelings new apprehensions
Just new
New looks on a new face wrapped in gift wrap
So I have to make it Christmas to open them up
without buying anything but just by giving the gift of presence as presents.
And anything more is another present under the tree
It's nice to know that sometimes when you plant trust
It grows into honesty
Honestly it's refreshing
It's a test of moral strength and how far you can carry the torch.
In the Olympic sport of courting
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 12:44 AM UTC
an intrepid image of consistency to living painlessly
floats aimlessly through an adjacent sea of complacency
that finds way to drift further from shore.
worries of capsizing and baptizing
in this ocean of social chastising
leaves me coming back for more.
descending the sail paints
images of pale
skys clouding progression,
shadowing the sun’s oppression
to shining through the cracks,
dreams reflect the water
of sailing to shore and
never coming back,
the table in cabin
covered with cigarettes butts
and empty bottles,
leaving stains of black
on the whispering floorboards
that sways with the current
that restores more
contentedness to being
lost at sea.
but, I wake up to reality
sea sick
MJB
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
Boredom bored some,
but for the rest of us it became a lifestyle.
The rest of us,
who spend so much money and time,
on objects and gizmos...
Just to while away our lives.
And, on comfort!
If we're going to do nothing,
we've at least got to be comfortable
while we do it.
We've gotta work though,
gotta hustle.
The trick is finding that tipping point...
The Grand American Treasure:
To find the least amount of labor,
for the greatest amount of leisure!
So let's climb that ladder
Make money! Get paid!
So we can quickly and painlessly,
whittle away our days.
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 2:06 PM UTC
The rain falls against the Face
Each drop like a tiny bomb
-SPLAAAAAAASH
-KABOOOOOOM
Its features made smooth by its school of thought
- Dum Dum Dum
they strike and insist
never miss
Blasts of kettle drums mingled
with the Staccato
All sounds brought forth from the
Technicolor Heartbeat
The clouds watch Face as it pours
-Anything to make us pure again
What cure is there
-Purify
-Pacify
-Rely on social norms We know what you need
Media never had it quite right
There was no fight
only Acquiescence
The slow acceptance
Eyes can be fooled and these clouds are
-Not convinced
The fractured Block inside the Face
offers no place for peace
for minds
Thoughts race behind the clouds
and fall behind the march
-Hey wait up
-NO LIE DOWN
It only rains when they lead the parade
and this charade is growing tired
Block is slowly
picking up the pieces
-Reconstruction
A better tomorrow
A new today
Clouds watch the world on stage
A play that never stops
Actors get off and paradigms shift
enough to crumble any mountain
and drain any sea
So the clouds rain
painlessly to each passerby
even though they get wet.
Jan 3, 2010
Jan 3, 2010 at 8:31 PM UTC
you want to run away,
you want to feel free,
feel wanted,
feel a sense of belonging.
you want to go somewhere that people won't judge you for the aching words you cry out at 3 am,
or forget about you simply because you find bliss in life's simplistic beauty.
you want to travel the world
and meet people who do too,
meet people who's smiles don't outmatch yours but instead make it brighter.
you want to feel like the most careless and careful person out there,
you want to feel like you matter,
feel like it doesn't matter if you don't.
you want someone,
anyone,
to decode some of the nonsense your messy brain paints pictures of
and maybe someone to splatter some of their own onto your canvas too.
you want to argue with someone in an aggresively calm way,
and you want to find someone to make you hurt so painlessly that it's beautiful.
you want to find and utilize every gift you were born with
and to take up useless hobbies that will make you feel alive.
but most of all,
you want to find someone,
something,
somewhere,
to help you rediscover what it feels like to not just exist
but to actually live.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
I forgot part of the question
what was it?
Learning history your
she was too young, so was I
need a good grade...am at the coffee shop...drank the coffee....ate the cookie
wasted time on FB the question WAS
It pulls on me and someone puts on Death Metal and there's this gutteral gravely synthesized voice
and (what was the que--)
being pulled, resisting, but it's too strong
and I'm in
floating in memory....the question
to answer I have to slit my chest open and let some of the contents run free
as I ... it wasn't all books and pencils and how dare you ask such a question
my life wasn't a hallmark card
she was only 10 and she was my best friend so that means I was only 10
My learning history--how can I even think...we had a psychic bond we did a test
and it showed and she was a little chubby with golden skin and
her father was creepy and he left out his copies of Hustler for me to see and
told me beauty was in the eye of the beholder
but to **** a ten year old that is vile
I remember...a day or so later, going over to her house where she showed me
what she brought home from the hospital
(chalk and teachers, and winning jelly beans for knowing state capitals)
and she had coca cola in her fridge and all the latest appliances from Sears because
her father worked there, like a push button phone and a washer/dryer with a digital display
and clocks, too, like that and when she told me what happened it was like
being electrocuted painlessly for about three hours and I had to leave
because...books. drawing things and teacher don't give a **** about anyone
and today, children are much more protected and people talk about things
but then
(my learning history? I remember desks, and boards and being nervous)
and how can a grown man take a ten year old he knows and tell her
they were going to find someone and instead
stop the van, just looked like her father's van
(today we are doing long division)
demand she goes into the back of the van and take off her pants
and stick his tongue in her mouth
and then kick her out
bleeding so she ran to a vet and they called the ambulance
(and she never came back to school)
and I started piling on more clothes, layers.
You can't show those ... what is happening to you
and my learning history
I can first give you this
caked in blood and no, it's no longer bleeding, thought it was
I have unearthed something
there was something in the way and
that's why I couldn't answer the question
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
It is copyright © Leonard Cohen 2006 and Jacket magazine 2007.
Takanawa Prince Hotel Bar
Slipping down into the Pure Land
into the Awakened State of Drunk
into the furnance blue Heart of the
one one one true Allah the Beloved
Companion of Dangerous Moods–
Slipping down into the 27 Hells
of my own religion my own sweet
dark religion of drunk religion
my bended knee of Poetry my robes
my bowl my scourge of Poetry
my final circumcision after
the circumcision of the flesh
and the circumcision of the heart
and the circumcision of the yearning
to Return to be Redeemed
to be Washed to be Forgiven Again
the Final Circumcision the Final
and Great Circumcision–
Broken down awhile
and cowarding
in the blasting rays
of Hideous Enlightenment
but now finally surrendered to the Great
Resignation of Poetry
and not the kind of Wise Experience
or the false kisses of Competitive
Insight, but my own sweet dark
religion of Poetry my ***** prize
my sandals and my shameful prayer
my invisible Mexican candle
my useless oils to clean the house
and remove my rival’s spell
on my girlfriend’s memory–
O Poetry my Final Circumcision:
All the pain was in fearing
and ignoring the girl’s voice
and the girl’s touch and the girl’s
fragrant humbling girlishness
which was lost three wars ago–
And O my love I love you again
I am your dog your cat
your Cleopatran snake
I am bleeding painlessly
from the Final Formless Circumcision
as I push up your dress a little way
and kiss your miraculously
lactating knee
And may all of you who watch
and G-d forbid!
are in a suffering predicament
as I go sliding down to Love–
may you speedily be embraced by
the girlishness of your own
dark girlish religion
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 12:46 PM UTC
This disconnected census
is masterfully oblivious
there is no comfort in listlessness
while drowning in indifference
Chemically imbalanced
any chance at repentance
in any single instance
is subtly dismissed
as I crush my heart inside my fist
while feigning interest.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 1:45 PM UTC
Staring into hazy eyes
I slowly start to realize
that you are several leagues away,
and now I understand~
Tried to solve the mystery
went looking for some history
I'd dive back down if just to see
and stir the sleeping sand.
We drown out all the pain we feel
far-away things seem not as real
but there's a ton of brokenness
on the bottom of the bay
weighted well to keep it down
in hopes that time would surely drown
the misery which hangs around
to cloud the dreary day.
I didn't know just what you felt
the searing fire, the burning welt
the scars of life, of loss and such
which numbed your spirit, hurt so much
and wounds so deep, they should have bled
attended to, would heal~ instead
they linger painlessly, you've said
in places way too deep to touch.
I feel the tug upon my fin
and draw a breath of water in
and surface here to find I've been
caught up in love's illusion.
you nearly dried me in the sun
and here I'm thinking 'so much fun'
but like all fish, I've come undone
awakened, our delusion.
I'll never truly understand
for I'm a fish and you're a man
I swim in garbage, not my plan
it's only your pollution.
there is no way a fish will drown
I'll let the current take me down
just one more gem in Neptune's crown
and that is my solution.
I make my bed there in the deep
and on my watch, I rarely sleep
the nets they drag for memories,
I keep them all from catching~
the one's you've drowned there in a heep
the painful one's I'd rather keep
and as I swim this sea of bleep
none will be for snatching.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
Twisting painlessly, yet uncomfortable under these wings
of angels and Mary, Him and His cross
No feeling of love, no feeling of help
No relief from the tormenting thoughts
twirling under the duress of nothing
Words waning into the void in the back of my mind
and in time, singing empty silence of the devoid
Lost, staring at the ceiling as one would read a book
tuning out the world and focused on symbols written on parchment
Turning pages with my eyes, reading each line
Each chapter different
Learning, speaking to you with ears open, seeking your words out of the sky
Yearning, burning desire that leaks into my pores, causing motionless sweat
Hurting, the chapter that is reread with despair
and I read with emotions splayed for those to see
who would dare look into my eyes in my moment of private consultation?
For if you so choose to look without breaking my silence, you would see
the strings attached to my chest, playing my mind like a puppet
tugging my heart with each excruciating word that runs through my mind
a pain like a scar; too much to bare but you press it anyway
And as I sit in this room, thinking such things
near tears and ready to disappear
I realize that these spread angel wings are not for me
and the ****** is ****** no longer
His son is the one that loved us
as proof that he hangs no longer
But He doesn't cry for me, and these prayers go unanswered
These screams of love have yet to cease, and we aren't any closer
Half a country away from your touch and your love
seems much farther away to me
then the touch of angels on a endless sea
where the Holy child sleeps in Heaven above
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 1:18 AM UTC
dew drop demons heavily falling off the leaves
then landing on my cheeks
where the absent of tears is present
electric strands twisting in the clouds
making loud noises illuminating my face
and shaking loose the self knotted noose
the birds are calling to me,
chirping quietly watching with beady black eyes,
responding to my cries and lamentations
as I fall to my knees, no longer running,
ready
my wails turn into whimpers
as their wings began to whisper
the raindrops start to quiver,
dampening my already worn skin
cuts from branches and thorns burn
and my clothes are torn
I can hear them in the silence
as they take flight
then gently land
in my hair and on my bare skin,
their little claw like fingers grasp
I'm surrounded in sight by bright black wings
circling my vision
they begin twisting into shapes I've never seen
eradicating me
and I go home,
painlessly.
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
How should I recite my life?
Was it a full sentence
or was it parted in two?
Did it entail big words
or meaningless clichés
shouting carpe diem?
Did it have depth
or did length bare it out?
Did it trip on punctuations
or did it flow painlessly?
Which parts lingered on tongues?
What orders did it give?
Did it fade among greater
paragraphs or was it magnificent?
How should I recite my life?
Should I clothe it in borrowed
metaphors or should I simply
read it out loud, word by word,
stress the culminations, the loud parts,
give extra sound to the little words?
Was it a meaningful sentence?
Will it linger on and get carried
in the mouths of men?
Will it serve as a citation for
great living; or will it simply be
forgotten as the sentence ends,
the last syllable is whispered
and the full stop
is finally
engraved.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 3:58 AM UTC
I’ve been fighting. Fighting, struggling, and lashing out at the faceless, formless thing that chases me ever since I can remember. I’m so very angry now, tonight, all day, – technically a lifetime…whatever. Angry and tired, I sit with my hands on my knees and my head bent, rocking…weak but wishing to be strong; held captive but wishing to be free; alone and afraid, wishing for comfort and courage.
I am sad as hell and I have no one in real life to talk to because no one cares or understands and whatever I know that it’s my “fault” that I don’t have the support system in place when I am in dire need of it…which would be now. I know that I **** Got. It. I am a bit on the ‘not-lucid’ side tonight and a wishing I was drunk! It is so hard to stay sober and I am starting to doubt the worth of it.
There is a part inside who has been researching how to die…quickly and painlessly. Last Friday it was an overdose of medication (I won’t say what med it was because it is now in the past and I don’t need some well-intended person yelling at me OH MY GOD THAT COULD **** YOU in all caps - sometimes we are still in quite a fragile state.) I write this because I feel like those of you who have been a part of this journey with me should know what’s going on. This is what’s going on: I do not feel better. I do not have a good support in place here. Shame. On. Us. We have not done a good job at getting this done. I have continued to pretend like everything is fine when there everything is so very un-fine. not-fine…so very opposite of fine.
I can’t cope with the frustration and invalidation tonight. I can’t cope with the screaming. I am not coping at all. I’ve tried. I can’t. I am struggling right now, tonight, to make it minute to minute. I’m not sure what I’m doing. I feel like I am fighting a losing battle and I have no coach. And I do not feel better.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
I am the hunter before the harvest.
The new day's dry thirst of something fresh
Turns for the worst in the want for flesh.
A single dose could not be enough.
Counting the seconds prove to be tough.
Constant yearning reaches starvation.
A wick of drool blackens to old ink.
The horrendous hunger writes a tale
Originating straight from my mouth.
Past pleasures are painlessly gloated,
And the wrong feelings were forgotten.
An addict to the intervention,
Convenience replaced true affection.
Kept in the corner, left out to rot.
Stripped all your honor, left out to die.
Above all, you deserved a swift death.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
I write this letter to you
With my last drop of ink
I write to express myself
I write to help you understand
Each letter, each curve
Each line that I make
I write with my last drop of ink
I want to tell you these things
I want you to know me for me
I write to explain
I write for personal gain
With each stroke that I painlessly wrote
With each second it took to write this
I write for you
I write for me
I write for us...
I write with my last drop of ink
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
Everything is temporary
Your hurt
Your home
Everything
Except for me
You'd smile while I cried
The unwavering voice
Of everything being alright
It was boldly defined love
The ability to assure the paranoid
Of their biggest fears escape
Permanence
You dug the word love into my frame
A sink hole impossible to rearrange
Or place anywhere other than my chest
It tattooed me painlessly
Our promises etched into my rib cage
We were an ecosystem within ourself
Our commitment a maze only we managed to navigate
I was so accustomed to your hand in mine
I'd began to think our roots had entwined
Our respiratory patterns had synced
Or was it that your breath shallowed
Like my own
From the deforestation leaving me to sink
As I watched you turn from man to stone
Lighting the match burning our home
You dropped so many hints
Just hard enough not to break
Me
But in the shards of glass and ruin
All I could see was your flaunted happiness
And my disintegrating memory
My inability to feel alone
Without feeling lonely
And I don't exactly know what I want
Other than little less empathy
And a little more apathy
And possibly a day of recovery
Spent in sobriety
I only know that I'm tired of crying to sleep
Over a man that says I'll love you like he'll stay
And cries when he leaves
My ribs promises want to scream
A congratulatory You Broke Me
But in my deterioration I'm stuck with only a memory
You were the only one that told me I smelled amazing after a cigarette,
And that is why the time I spent with you I could never regret
But you'd always hated that I smoke
Because you said I took our time and shortened it
But that's now proven irrelevant
Because I can't shorten what's meant to be permanent
But the ashes of your disappearance
Now fall on your conceptual forever
And within a matter of minutes we were consumed by the great inevitable.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
mangled jangled in the space of race
he looked purple shadowed with wide eyes
and wonder
unafraid of escape he
still stayed locked in a love affair
need and greed
lust and bust
time ticked painlessly
wrinkles grew rich
obscurity haven
until at last
a resurrection.
Now he creates art
and happiness
riding into the sunset of verses
where sense and nonsense
merge in a mystical aura.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 5 days ago
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
Maybe it wasn't sporadic,
but I saw the outbreak coming nonetheless
and this complication isn't remedied painlessly
Until I finally fell and landed perilously where I'm not even wanted
but feel somehow that the pain belongs to me
and I belong to it
Its mine and I'll keep it; oceans could be deeper.
You can't float lifeboats on land
But when the wind becomes black ink,
and I can't lean against the running trees;
I block my face and chase after them
and while I know I think in metaphors and not similes,
I like to think I lie
and I'm only myself,
darkly and simply realistic
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
(no,) it's not horror by convention.
the walls are bare of bugs
(and indeed there are walls. bugs too, though not the sort to pester)
i've not been abruptly taken or shaken or prodded by torturous instruments of men or the mind.
for garish light i am able to adjust (though i'd prefer it dim)
i make no note of odor or obtrusive presence,
and so it is in my familiar crevice.
where joints come painlessly unhinged
(connected still by blood and tissue)
like the child's game with mismatched shapes
(this square simply won't fit in this tube)
(limbs irrevocably misaligned)
and there i'll float, when i've drifted
to the depths of a space that can't be removed
(aware and unable)
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC