"tumour" poems
You’re a poisoned rose in a wedding band,
A glad eye with a stabbing hand,
A tumour ,vicious rumour surrounds you,
BP Exxon -death abounds you,
I first found you amusing and witty,
cutting remarks a stick with both ends ******
Gutter scumbag with a glaze of charm,
Only interested in doing harm,
A sociopath with a crocodile smile,
always had the last laugh,- real fight? Run a mile,
Backstabber Judas priest,but **** was I deceived,
Each Lie you sold I truly believed.
I stood by you ,defended you til the bitter end,
Bitter irony I know,with you as a friend,
Who the **** needs enemies, its all a front,
An affront to my instincts,get out of my life you ****
chorus
"My toxic friend this is the end get out of my life for good,
Every time you smile a child dies you’re up to no good,
Don’t call me-text me unfriend me before you end me,
You’re the epitome of the new word-Frenemy."
Now I hear you’re spreading rumours behind my back,
Bad move,wrong play better stand back,
Your malicious manouevery no longer stands,
I’m two steps ahead your end is planned.
You better watch your back,you’ve got no back up and no spine,
Juggling hedgehog maze lies through a field of land mines,
I’ve got my eye on you ex pal,don’t worry your time’s come,
we’ll see who can outrun the .45 from a gun,
That you’ve been begging for for years no tears at your end,
You’re a poxy oxymoron my toxic friend.
So come out to play my way and see who draws first,
I guarantee you a surprise not my blood burst,
Flying in the air like a hose god only knows,
You’re a fly in my eye a burr under my skin so out she goes,
The left that hits your jaw will saw your head from your neck
You talk a good fight,good night,I’ll leave ya wrecked.
chorus
"My toxic friend this is the end get out of my life for good,
Every time you smile an angel loses wings you’re no good,
Don’t call me-text me unfriend me before you end me,
You’re the epitome of the new word-Frenemy."
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
Eyes like massive clanks- gazes morphed to lanced boils, lungs ache and the tumour of hopeless alien weird melts an old painting we used to call 'existence.'
Ankles dry, calloused thoughts, skin peels to reveal oozing flesh. **** sinks in and swallows floating zinc; immune. Consuming ex-cadavers in mall parking lots and pushing the crippled in shopping carts, an ankle twisted, a mother swallowed monetary ***** the stock market became the shelf market, and creation wondered if we were okay with frozen pizza for dinner.
Life dragged on and on, the world swirled on twitter feeds and Facebook statuses, the streets completed laps around our better judgements and our better lives, we sank to scheduled escapism and believed that one day we would find the light despite our never left-look.
Massive intention swelled to disjointed shark search. A witch-hunt to burn unhappiness in it's own angry passion. Bones; cost efficient at the least and designed in the weirdness of erosion-return. Miniature intention swelled to grabs solidarity. A manhunt to freeze stillness in it's own endless silence.
What complete? What shatter-tastic ******
Eyes like massive clanks- gazes morphed to lanced boils, lungs ache and the tumour of hopeless alien weird melts an old painting we used to call 'existence.'
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
I remember when I saw you
for the first time years ago
You brushed me off without a glance
I thought "that's someone I should know"
Time went by and walls came down
I softened your demeanor
It took some work, but I won out
Because, hell...you couldn't get much meaner
A first is always tougher
No matter what it is you do
But, each first is well worth living
If I can have my first with you
A few months in another first
You met my folks and friends
when I brought you to that birthday do
The one I wished would never end
You took your time and wore me down
Another first came soon
I remember how your body shone
All sweaty 'neath the moon
A first is always tougher
No matter what it is you do
But, each first is well worth living
If I can have my first with you
We married six months after that
In a year our first was born
I can't remember which one cried the most
You, or our baby, just new born
Our first house came, we bought a dog
Things were off and at full speed
But with all of our achievements
You were the one thing I'd still need
A first is always tougher
No matter what it is you do
But, each first is well worth living
If I can have my first with you
We opened up our business
The first of many more to come
It wasn't that successful
but it was still our number one
I remember that day's phone call
The doctor said "I've bad news for you"
He told me of the tumour
I'd passed first and was stage two
Through radiation and my chemo
You were the one who was always there
I remember when you came in
And you had shaved off all your hair
A first is always tougher
No matter what it is you do
But, each first is well worth living
If I can have my first with you
I've been gone now for a while
I know it's tough, but I'm around
I can see you and our child
Even though I'm in the ground
There'll be more firsts now together
I know it just won't be the same
But, still it's firsts and your'e together
Like when we first played out this game
A first is always tougher
Even though it's not with me
But, each first is well worth living
Just make it the best that it can be
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 7:25 PM UTC
Demented bandit
Redundant pundit
Fun time gambit
Screaming "Bomb it!"
Vicious *****
Cannot stand it
Mend it, bend it
Maybe tow it
How it goes
It goes all wrong
It wrongs no more
More than it should
But more it could
I guess it would
But that would hurt
Oh what a ****
The world is burnt
And I feel like a picture blurt
You've censored too much
Ventured too far
Gotten all such
Answers fewer
Violent fever
Violet furor
Volatile gore
Gory tumour
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 11:37 AM UTC
Look at your spider legs
clambering out like that
as though your crab cage
has stayed too still, sat
too long as a street tumour
spat up on the pavement.
You must miss the frailness
of the skin that sheltered
your birth, the patterns
strewn across the sheets
in blurs of stripes and dots,
colours and tones. But now
it's a sickly sight, those ribs
scuttle like limbs pushing
through a shell that suited
your broken spindles just
fine. Maybe you need a fix
of a skin to get you in shape,
web the joints in the hope
someone will hold you again,
your handle gripped in hand.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 8:01 AM UTC
Why does it happen to me?
Did the accident also give me a brain tumor?
The most common symptoms of brain tumors include headaches; numbness or tingling in the arms or legs; seizures, memory problems; mood and personality changes; balance and walking problems; nausea and vomiting; changes in speech, vision, or hearing.
I have all except seizures and nausea & vomiting.
I am already on Sodium Valproate and Valproic Acid controlled release tablets which are given to brain tumour patients as well.
My psychiatrist was so scared while asking my dad the last time we went for checkup, "Did he have seizures or vomiting?"
But I am not scared, I know that stuff can only get better for me. I have had enough of misfortune.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
It's time again for your inspection,
Time to make some minor corrections;
Squeezing out each new infection
Eliminating imperfections.
It's not cathartic -it's not bold
To just sit back and lose your hold
and let this lunacy unfold
unendorsed but uncontrolled
And still there's time to pretend
This ritual's come to and end
And soon you'll be on the mend
And you won't need sympathy from friends
But YES! You really had a go;
the flakes of flesh did fall like snow,
ten jagged daggers, dripping, soak
In a red and ragged afterglow.
And then just when you think you know
it's over and you've stemmed the flow
a tiny tumour starts to grow
and it's time again to face your foe.
the bell tolls and the round begins,
this time it's not about who wins
the wide mouthed open sore still grins
forgiving you for all your sins.
And when you stopped your childish games
the mirror did burst into flames
and burned, and now that remains
are tatters, ashes and bloodstains.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
I stared at the big blue cloud,
It was in my hands,
It was so blue that it depressed me
But it was only fluffy candy
I picked a piece from the cloud
I digested it with my eyes and soul,
It was the brightness to a child's life
It was my only happiness
You look at candy,
As sweetness to your life,
but to me it was more,
It was the only freedom I had in the world
I bit into the blue sweetness
As it dissolved in my mouth,
It dissolved my pain,
I was sure everything would be fine again
Then, when the cotton got stuck between my teeth,
So did my hopes and dreams.
I felt like a fool for believing
A fool for trying
A tear slid down my cheek
Making the candy bittersweet
No Cotton Candy can make it go away
Rewrite my story
When they fought and screamed,
I'd try find my happy place,
Eat my sweet Blue Candy,
And just pray it away
I've tried everything
Clovers to Rabbit's Feet,
But this heavenly cloud
was the only price to pay
If my life was all drunk and dead
Would it **** to find my demise-free zone
And just eat some Cloudy Candy instead?
If wishes came true,
With every bite I took
I would have father with me
A Mother to love me
I kept eating the candy though
Even if it didn't taste heavenly anymore
Tears kept streaming down with every bite
I kept the harshness inside
The faster I ate, the more it hurt,
I couldn't swallow the lumps in my throat,
The pain developed inside of me,
Like a tumour, I was a waste, never needed.
You eat all the Candyfloss in the world, it won't work.
It just sweetens the pain, lessens the hurt.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 7:03 AM UTC
It’s not about the money
it’s not unusual
it’s not over
it’s not a tumour
it’s not easy
it’s not easy being green
it’s not easy being me
it’s not enough
neverwinter
never let me go
never say never
never back down
fix dead pixel
fix drywall
fix design
fix dripping faucet
find me spot
find me
find me guilty
find me love
why are flamingos pink
why are people gay
why are flatworms flat
why are we here
why is the sky blue
why stop now
why am I so tired
why do cats purr
then I got high
then I learned French
then I saw her face
then I got bronchitis
what is quinoa
what is love
what is the fiscal cliff
what is dubstep
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
Pathos puddles in young dimples when she raises the gun,
a teardrop reflected in Grandfather’s blurry eye.
She ***** the hammer, aligns the bullet
on the stroke of sepia midnight.
Misery, reflected in her tears when he looks up,
ears ringing before she squeezes the trigger;
wags his tail to Grandfather’s rhythmic chime,
licks his tumour-filled belly one more time.
Like a bandit cloaked in purple and ochre camouflage,
a stale breeze slips through the window and thieves;
the last glimmer of hope kidnapped and forced
into mushroom cloud getaway cars.
Beyond empty stables, prairie grass whispers last rites,
dry and silver solemn sympathy-words
that fill the room, watercolours of life
reflected in death, as it is, in bloom.
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 12:58 AM UTC
Skin cancer isn't funny
so cover up when it is sunny
so slather on all sorts of ointment on your skin
It might just be a rumour
Every skin tag's not a tumour
You don't want to think of what just might have been
If you find you have a pimple
On your back or in your dimple
Go and get it checked out all the same
You don't want to die of cancer
When you could have had the answer
You have to know that cancer's not a game
So, do not be indignant
It might just be malignant
check it out before the nightmare comes to pass
See a doctor if you're worried
Go real fast as if you're hurried
You don't want your name read out in your church mass
I hope you get my meaning
And you know which way I'm leaning
I don't want to hear you died when you should not
Take care and do inspections
Of all your parts and sections
Remember, this is the only life that you have got.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 10:10 PM UTC
The darkest humour,
A comedy
I’m laughing although it is killing me
You watch me bleed, yeah.
Brains don’t feel pain…
Especially daddy’s
When he had a tumour growing in it
Messed up his memory
Also, his sanity
Since then he cannot see
He went completely blind
Nerve cells rarely heal
Especially the ones that run to the eyes
Surprise
For two weeks
He felt it ill
Slight fever with no heat
He felt slightly weak
Then he woke up blind
Everything was dark
His optic nerves his tumour did find
He said everything was black
He flew out of the country
After a month, he came back
He didn’t die, alive was my daddy
Ten years, three months later
I put my pen to paper
I know I wouldn’t remember
‘Cause daddy and I don’t get better.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree
I am of my father
Dementia: him, schizophrenia: me
Isn’t it a laughter?
That’s my happily ever after...
Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 7:43 AM UTC
Tinnitus is here since the first time,
The first time you had ditched me...
Oh yeah it had gotten okay temporarily,
Because you patched up momentarily.
Now I have an even stronger Vertigo,
Ever after I am of some knowledge..
How did you put up such a good act,
Why did you double cross me?
He confirmed what your mom told me,
That he had come down to your town..
Before I did, much before you knew me,
Even earlier than you stepped in my life...
I don't want to know who you cheated,
He might as well feel double-crossed.
You're right, that's your personal issue,
I am nobody to make comments on it.
Now I suspect that I have a Neuroma,
They dub it as Acoustic Neuroma.
You may ask me simply,
"What sense is that self-diagnosis?"
Well I just observed the symptoms,
***A persistent headache,
Dizziness,
Drowsiness,
Vertigo,
Tinnitus.***
The confirmatory test will be held soon,
It is not often always a malignancy,
And I will just hope for the best.
I really hope that it is not cancerous,
For that would bankrupt the family,
Cancer - that too a brain tumour...
As if I had gulped down barrels of wine,
Vertigo is as though I'm inebriated,
It is seriously very irritating.
Irritating me for long is this tinnitus,
Now vertigo has just added to them,
My miserable mysterious miseries.
But don't you worry and keep playing,
You're an excellent playgirl,
There're so many boys as toys for you.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 12:56 PM UTC
Into the long grass,
the long, long ponder
lost to breath and tears
lost to wonder
lost to the clear and present
or the hereafter
but there in the past
a cancer tumour twisted
all the slow growth
til the now,
this rotten gutted now
Mar 22, 2022
Mar 22, 2022 at 4:02 PM UTC
When you live on the wrong side of sixty
You flirt with cold death every day,
You **** sweet air in like nectar
And you hold your breath and you pray,
For tomorrow may bring a black tumour
Or a spasm, or seizure or more...
Then whatever you do, whatever you say,
You’ll end up prone on the floor.
For our time on this planet is temporary,
Our time of enjoyment is brief,
Just pull out the stops and let loose man
Live it up, kiss your girl, take relief.
Tomorrow is lost in the dreamtime,
Today is the essence of being,
So kick up your heels and spin all your wheels
and send all those worries a-fleeing.
When you live on the wrong side of sixty
Your skin has a penchant to sag
And no matter how hard you diet
Your gut gets as wide as a bag.
Your whit was once so exciting
Your repartee so sharp
Now you mumble and wheeze
And occasionally sneeze
And frequently squeeze out a ****
Oh life was once so enticing
The sparkle and crackle was there
When you danced on the floor
The crowd yelled for more
And you dazzled with lights in your hair.
Now the dance floor is silent and empty
The music has faded away
Just to have it once more
My poor heart does implore ?
... But the crimson has faded to grey.
Now you’ll think I’m buried in sorrow,
Enmeshed in self pity galore
But the fact of the matter
Is served on a platter
… I really don’t care anymore.
For you see I’ve learnt a great secret,
Discovered a pearly white truth....
That life is as free
As a bird in a tree...
And remorse is really uncouth!
So no more do I wallow in sadness,
No more do I tear out my heart,
Instead I rejoice in my gladness
And retrace all the steps from the start.
For living’s a sequence of pictures
To give or take as you choose,
If your selections awry
Then you’re lost in the sky
...you pick the wrong one... You lose!
The sun comes up in the morning,
The light erupts in the sky
And the beautiful song of the blackbird
Brings a tear of joy to my eye.
The golden greens of the shadows
The crystal glint of dew
Encapsulates the rapture
I feel on seeing you.
For a friend makes life worth living,
A smile a golden door
To the promise of tomorrow,
Oh! The future’s good ..once more.
When you live on the wrong side of sixty
Life’s lessons treat you right,
You separate the wheat from chaff
And celebrate the fight.
You make the most of good stuff
And embrace all the fun,
You interact with positives ..
DO THIS,
AND FRIEND ….YOU’VE WON!
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
21st January 2007
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 2:24 PM UTC
She’s six,
She wants to play and run and with her friends freely mix,
She’s bright,
She wants to reach out to the dimly glowing tunnel of light,
She’s grateful,
She wants to be brave in the face of all that is fearfully fateful,
Imagine…
Pain, pain,
Pain that is so encrusted it eats into her tiny bones unseen,
Pain so heated it needs to be cooled with the kiss of morphine,
One lung sunken never again to flutter or rise,
The other coughs along over craggy cancer heights,
The luscious hair that was once her crown has been plucked away,
All her hair falling into the jealous grip of the dead and dying day,
There is a brain tumour that tick-tocks in the evening shadows,
In her sleep she whispers, “Tell aunty to bring me eyeshadows.”
A circle of spirals, a moonbeam,
She is one of us, what is life but a brief dream?
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
You called me “Cochon”
The night you told me
So I hit you hard
I hit you so hard
The tumour felt it
I woke up crying
Face up in your lap
Lapping up your tears
Like a young swallow
Swallows its mother’s
Face-full of bile-worm
And I said to you
I don’t want to love
A living headstone
And you called me “Chatte”
Practicing naked
Downward-facing dog
Before your pelvis
With less fur, more *****
Regurgitating
***** of skin, of taint,
Tainted skin, birthmark
Marked malignant skin
Like a mother bird
For her naked chick
Shed of its cancer
By my grating tongue
And I called you “Chien”
You called me for help
Through your sealed eyelids
Enveloping eyes
You no longer own
Only for a kiss
And so I kiss you
I kiss you so hard
On your cataract
It clears your socket
Now bloodied, benign
Like a cuckoo’s nest
And I said to you
I had hated it
When you spoke in French
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
You send me a song every Wednesday,
a soul offering; a slice of the strange radioactive
lunatic madness -
love-
growing inside your wonderland.
(It is not a cancerous tumour, please stop calling it that.)
You say it is dark, the Arctic's lover;
I say it is dark, like
velvet punk music and
stained checked shirts and
almost-blood wine (in shared glasses); like
the colour of your skin.
Come on.
We've both been more fascinated by the depths of the ocean
than the blue glass surfaces.
Isn't that why we fell into bottomless black holes and called it
love?
Isn't that why we branded ourselves poets,
seared the red hot poker labels onto our backs,
so that we wouldn't have to say we're just
sad...?
Yes, we are carefully disintegrating;
the world already gave us a head-start
by curling our spines into the snakelike 'S'
It was preparing us
for our careful meandering
into a river mess:
living.
No doubt, in the pool depths of African evenings,
you drink,
vodka-tinged cereal or tea,
the glass Roobios surface reflecting
a lover's face and the boredom of sadness.
No doubt, I drink to you,
coffee or warm milk,
to try and wake myself into
dying without a purpose.
No doubt, we both drink
the night itself.
And let it fester in our veins,
to curdle our blood into that same wine-shade of
darkness.
We drink.
Virginia Woolf had courage,
Sylvia Plath had courage,
Ernest Hemingway had courage,
you and I don't.
We are too fearless to live.
So we drink
and clutch at each other desperately
without reaching out a single finger.
We form shotguns with our hands, make pacts, go
home again.
And drink.
We are helping each other to die
and live
at the same time.
We are helping each other to try fit the day
too
into our arteries.
You send me a song every Wednesday;
this song will save our existence.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 6:22 AM UTC
There is a tumour
Inside of me.
And what does it do?
It grows and grows
And keeps growing.
This tumour
Is loneliness.
-- Eleanor
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
dusk settles over the hilltops
and you find me
back resting against a tree trunk
wondering
"whose spine is sturdier?"
raising a cancer stick to my lips,
refusing to inhale after ******* in the smoke,
and i think
"coward"
and i know that i will never
be rooted;
i will never
stay loyal to one patch of earth
unlike this oak that supports me
holding the smog
between my lips
is a little more dangerous
than Augustus' metaphor
but it's sure as hell
less dangerous
than letting it clog my lungs―unless
storing it for a moment before exhaling
is likely to give me mouth cancer
instead of lung cancer
well, i've never been one for commitment
i think i'd rather spit
and pretend
that the tumour
is being expelled
than know there's something
deep inside
that grows every time i so much as breathe
oh, love,
what an illness you are
both of you:
the feeling, and the holder of that pet-name
no chemotherapy
is going to save me,
not now
i think i'll hand myself over
to ignorance
and wait for the problem
to go away
my immune system has always been impressive
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
I am your nightmare, I am your fear.
I am vile, I am a bat screeching in your ear.
I am torture, with a capital T
I am a noose that you cannot see.
I am the part of your soul that is black.
I am the treacherous thoughts you can't hold back.
I am the devil's spawn, the seven deadly sins
I am the sociopath acting out on a whim
I am a corpse on All Hallows Eve
I am the homeless, begging on my knees
I am the **** of the Earth, the dust of the wealth
I am an alcoholic in withdrawal, a person dying of bad health
I am a tumour, gnawing away at your life
I am a scar, being torn open by a knife
I am the bad,
the evil,
the vile
I am your paranoia, your reoccurring denial
You created this monster, this omen of death
And I will remind you until you take your last breath.
-lf-
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
**A painting of the future, a grandiose world of adventure
Awaits us all beyond the call of the mid-morning
Blackbird, filling with the sunlight of ages past,
A dawn of a new era approaches. Her voice heard.
The air, a scent, camp fires of the joyous years of our youth,
Of when we all used to run and laugh, puffy clouds, skies blue,
The sight of such clarity, yet to be mistaken for another
Dream, it will light the path that we used to follow, in truth.
Sky-full of color, drowned out this filth! This city curb with
Alcohol and drugs and needles pouring down into the
Hideous dredges below through a crack, it's disturbing,
Like a tumour, a world of wicked witches, fear, and lack.**
Let the scientists try to explain it away, the myriad of colorful
Hues balancing and bouncing off each other in the skies...
**Sterling silver the moon, her crescent to become
Full-like a white-gold orb, the backdrop sparkles star dust,
In the light there is a vibrant halo, delicate and full,
Explain it away! The earth is waking up, eventually...**
She will again be whole.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
On our quilted island I cling to you
As the waves of change lap at our toes
Before inevitability sweeps you away,
Our soft skin no longer touching;
An ill-fitting jigsaw with a missing piece.
We’re broken. Our bodies leak
Warm liquid from passion and
Lack of self-control.
And your hurting hurts me
So I comfort my murderer,
Cradling an angel in my arms
Who will soon transcend
Our transitory existence.
Your smile kills me,
As the lead in my chest slowly
Poisons my soul. It’s no apparition,
But a slow-burner, a malignant
Tumour, biding its time while
You wrench me to pieces.
The clock ticks by. No man
Should wait for time.
I count your breaths
And press myself ever closer
To your retreating figure
And beautiful imbalanced
Mind.
The ocean eyes close
And angel curls fade
Until I sit alone, a trembling
Country mouse lusting after
A cat who for a time put away
His claws and played with his
Dinner before devouring it
Whole.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
fill me with your ****
until its running out of my pores
**** I've always wondered what that smell was
drown me in pity and kind verses
until my countenance is beautiful to you
because spaghetti knows!
I can't be complete unless I'm beautiful
to you
and all this time I've been running
broken pottery quotations up your
shivering spine
without thanks for the cold stares
you pierce through my fingertips
hold my hand and drag me through
the cosmic playland you soar your
broken hang glider
without regard for the fact that we
were always the center of the universe
and globally has constantly been flatlands
I want nothing less than the very cells
composing each and every cancerous tumour
exploding through your veins
because Allah knows your breath freezes my neck
solid when you lick down my..
OOH that tickles, you gotta avoid my funny bone
or I'll squeal without worrying about your parents
right outside my door
much less the police stating overbearing bricks
cemented around your walls
break them down and expose your innards
to the outwards and lie reposed in the vulnerability
of your last breath.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
Look at him
A pile of limbs
One hunk of flesh
He pulsates with blood
He's nowhere near human
He's a beast
Carrying burden
The privileged burden
Such is a privilege
To be morphed
Entangled
Intertwined
He's hideously deformed
Carrying a part of her
With him
Everywhere
She won't ever fall off
She won't melt away
She won't be cut off
He doesn't want her to
It makes him marked
An Elephant Man
Grotesque
To those who can't understand
Hundreds of us
Walk the streets
In plain sight
Deformed
When he's most alone
He looks to a tumour
He looks to a scar
Knowing "That's where you are"
When he's most at home
She starts to sink
Into his skin
To be closer to him
When he's said and done
When he's ready to stop looking
At his weaved flesh and bone
He'll keep her inside
Stowed her away
To fester inside
To let him walk
Free of deform
In the hopes that
Someone else could be so lucky
As to let themselves sink
To mangle themselves upon him
Let it be that he
Deforms
Just as he let himself be
Let them mark one and other
So that
They won't ever fall off
They won't ever melt away
They won't ever be cut off
Look at them
A pile of limbs
Two hunks sew flesh
Their hearts pulsate together
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 4:49 AM UTC