"prode" poems
the tiger sits behind the bars.
i put him there.
swallowed the key.
after what happened, i want him there forever.
his stripes tricked me. once. twice.
enough.
the blood still fresh on his daggers.
he moans a pathetic moan,
as if his life fades.
his eyes. pierce me.
prode me.
pick me.
apart. apart. a part.
green eyes. like the forest. like the sea.
like something in between.
he yearns.
i lick my fingers.
his eyes never away. never another direction.
my flesh fresh from the sun.
sweat newly coated.
my fruits almost ripened.
the tiger cannot stand it.
and i laugh. and laugh. and laugh.
the key fits comfortably in my stomach.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 5:45 PM UTC
a death
a father
a husband
and a hard worker
his name
-chad-
a smile on his face
what would he say
would he say move on
or its ok
would he be prode
or sadly disdoponted
i miss this man named
-chad-
he was and is my father
not by blood but by choice
the memories my mind holds
to presuse to count
my first rabbit
man that was amazing
and the fisrt time i called him dad
i recall the look in his eyes
i want my dad this is a issue as a death of a dad means no dad but in dreams or in thoughts.
i miss him R.I.P. chad
can i wake up now?
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC