"unrepentant" poems
~for those who will read this and weep~
*the quiet ones,
the silent Job ones,
who quote not from the
Book of Lamentations,
but author their own,
based on-the-job experience
localized versions of cryptic elegiacs
accepting the wooden crosses borne,
stepping up to the
unrequested unforeseen,
then buried under, burnt alive,
yet never relieved by dying,
nailed by words, stronger than iron,
promises sworn, promises kept
with no ending date relief,
promises by and to themselves,
but not for themselves!*
*the wearers of crystal glass shackles,
adorned with decorative locks for which
no key did the maker make,
nor any divine creator
dare conceive an early release,
never no escape contemplated,
for the lock human, unrepentant unbreakable,
a decorative useless metaphor gesture,
a blunt “life ***** advertisement
I compose amidst a
bus pond of mismatched city folk,
a tapestry of ages colors and differing views on god/no god,
none would believe that as the bus sways me,
it’s in rhythm to holy choral music,
hundreds year old,
divinity masses and motets worships,
where one human can hide temporarily
a safe house,
to calm his questioning relentless
from the horrors of no answers,
for when the mind has no solution
to the rough and tumbling lives,
lived in glass shackled confinement,
the poets desperation equals theirs*
*summon eagles to transport these imprisoned,
but the shackled refuse,
I come to them but they wave me off,
I go crazy for once I was enslaved,
thirty years war that left devastation,
from which so many poems created
so I speak with heightened regard
of one who planned futures for others where his
non-existence was a founding father (ha!)*
*but the day came and
I was released by my own inactions,
but means nothing until a way to
away found
to release the yet bound early*
got a couch, airline miles, hundred dollars
in my pocket and an unrelenting need
to save them, a consumption disease,
the glass shackled, at ease,
won’t rest till all are freed
this my creed
no one left behind
these cyber words do not mock
for they are unbounded, set free,
when
the flesh connects and the needs of the flesh
are stronger for they are in heart conceived
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 5:45 PM UTC
I am a cereal killer
Devouring Life is a thriller
Snap, crackle, and pop
I make the flakes drop
Stalking salubrious crunch
Murdered for breakfast and lunch
My appetite for Trix is voracious
For my Lucky Charms, I am gracious
Mud & Bugs haunt my soul
Desecrating Grape-Nuts whole
Yea, I'm Nut n' Honey and Cocoa Hoots
Krispy Kritter Krave Fruit Loops
I'm a cereal killer
Yet a community pillar
Can't comprehend why it's a crime
Unrepentant, I'll massacre cereal every time
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 10:01 PM UTC
Some came in chains
Unrepentant but tired.
Too tired but to stumble.
Thinking and hating were finished
Thinking and fighting were finished
Retreating and hoping were finished.
Cures thus a long campaign,
Making death easy.
6.8k
Feeling the box I work in closing in on me during winter’s last gasp,
She has dug in her heals refusing to yield to warmth.
Unmerciful and unrepentant in her bitterness,
she taunts and tortures us all.
Yet, spring birds sing of spring as a lover sings of her man.
The sun struggles to break through the dark grey,
melting away the dim cold
and drabness that surrounds all.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 7:03 PM UTC
I have been cruel
and unrepentant,
and on my knees
yearning for certain
benevolences
people promised
good people
get.
There is I suppose
a logic
to why it is not so tragic
I don't get when I didn't give
'cuz I was too busy
wanting
the best.
My conscience woke
when I stabbed a man
in the heart with barb
again.
After hours or regret
and notes that confessed
I burnt it down for I knew
nothing changes.
I am still
upset.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 12:41 PM UTC
The houses of my Babylon lean upon each other.
They will not fall, not until the last hard hand
quits the last hammer, not until misfortune
loses prey, not until the least last child
is gently packed in wool and sent to play.
Sooner will you hear their see-saw hinges wail.
Will you then ask of them a song of home?
The windows of the houses of my Babylon
lay bear the walls around them. Who but gray
grandfathers marking time press their noses
to the glass? The visions of their lonely vigils
fade, half life unrecorded, shadows on parade,
whispered secrets kept secret. You will never know
with what intent they overlook your passing through.
Rain tears on the windows of the houses
of my Babylon, the bath of unattended panes
dropped free from heaven. They will not wash
clear. They will ever wear the haze of tainted air.
You think this stain the mark of unrepentant sin.
Who, then, gives the absolution of so many
brown-burned fingers that will not scrub up?
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 1:21 PM UTC
I'm an Aries ram and Lord I use this
to resist you. Dear Christ I feel so afraid.
I'm scared of opening my heart to you,
for fear that
I'd be giving up myself.
I want to cling to the self-inflicted pain
and let it become my life.
But oh Christ I know this
is wrong of me.
Your touch brushes aside my symbols.
You try to ****** your peace upon me.
But oh Lord, I put up
brick walls to keep you away.
Please Jesus help me break them down.
Let this Aries ram put aside
his horns of doubt.
Let this hurting man
feel the love you promise for me.
I'm a deep dark hole
of unrepentant sin.
Carrying a cross that
does not hold your heart.
Oh sweet Jesus put yourself
into my burdens.
Let me open my eyes
to the glories
of your redemption.
Fresh from sin let me arrive
cleansed and ready to
show Your love.
As an Aries ram I jam
away from your salvation.
Yet I know I need to
submit my will to yours.
Crash away my doubts oh
Holy, blessed Lord.
Comfort me for I feel so alone.
Angry eyes follow me as
I walk though my sinful life.
Inside I feel the dark night
of the soul,
and my touch is
filled with demons not laid to rest.
Lord, stop this Aries ram
from losing his soul.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
Dear God I’m overcome.
I know no other way.
I’ve heard it works for some,
So finally I’ll pray.
No reason to rejoice;
I have so many needs.
So God, just hear my voice,
And please ignore my deeds.
I’ve never asked for much,
Or anything at all,
But my issues are such,
It’s You I need to call.
I pray for better health
(My back is always sore),
And if I had more wealth,
I’d probably pray more.
If you could help my son
To make the soccer team,
It would help him a ton
To realize his dream.
So what else should I seek?
I’ve never prayed before.
If I sincerely speak,
Then You just give me more?
To pray this easily…
I’m not sure what I mean…
Is prayer supposed to be
Like a vending machine?
God, forget what I said.
This prayer is not the best.
I need You in my head
To make any request.
I should not seek Your grant,
Without seeking Your grace.
The unrepentant can’t
Come to a holy place.
I think You’re there to find.
I feel I’m on my own.
So let me clear my mind
As I approach Your throne.
I want to try again
But this time not for me.
Your concern is for man.
Prayers not for “I” but “we.”
If You send the world peace,
Our needs are not a must.
Give our ego release,
And please just grant us trust.
You’ve seen this mortal man,
And things I never saw.
Whatever is Your plan,
I’m humble and in awe.
The act of prayer itself,
If prayer is to be true,
Will purify the self
To feel closer to You.
I don’t pray to save me.
If my sins You forgave,
Then I pray just to be
Worthy of being saved.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
I read the book of Samuel
I read the story of the Israelites
Of how they rejected God
“We want a king!” they demanded
“We want to be like other nations”
Rejecting God’s kingship.
The same God who brought them up
Out of the ******* of Pharaoh
Out of slavery in Egypt
The same God who gave them victories
Over many nations and wars
The same God who had fed them
For forty years in the wilderness
Same God who had proved
Beyond reasonable doubt
That He is the King of kings
A Lord above all lords
They chose to downgrade!
I was swept away in a mind journey
As I thought of how it must have felt
To be rejected by your own children
Repudiated by your beloved
Disowned by the very people you love.
My heart bled!
The heartbreak was unimaginable
The pain was excruciating
As my mind pointed fingers of accusation
I couldn’t find befitting words
*“Foolish Israelites!”
“Unrepentant idiots!”
“Stubborn generation!”*
And as my mind went awry
Heaping insults on God’s people
Raining accusations on them
Judging an imperfect people as myself…
His still small voice whispered
***“You are all the same”
“You have done worse”***
Then it struck me
Like a lightening of a million volts
I am the Israelites
I am the very people of God
I am the same ones I condemn
I have betrayed God repeatedly
I have chosen sin above my maker
My iniquities know no bounds
I have trivialized His blood
I have made a mess of the cross.
*I am the “foolish Israelites!”
I am the “unrepentant idiots!”
I am the “stubborn generation!”*
My heart melted into tears
Shame covered me like a cloud
My head was bowed in ignominy.
Unable to speak or move
I lay there, weeping at my wickedness
No words were spoken
But I felt His arms embrace me
In acknowledgement of my repentance
I never deserved it
But He loved me nonetheless.
I pointed one finger at them
But three pointed back at me!
© Raphael Uzor
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
Been caught spying on your "Friends" again; Land of the Free.
Been caught lying through your teeth, again and yet again.
There really should be a huge fuss about this.
*This is the latest in a long series
of unrepentant Crimes against Humanity
This is perverse and unacceptable
But then again,
what's new?*
How many allies will we leave alienated?
How many allies will we have in the Future?
How many human rights will we leave undefiled?
With the United States,
who needs enemies?
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
******* at tickling the ivories,
at inducing the jet buttons
to chortle, say, in a concerto ;
but I do strum and flirt
with those amazing royal,
88 unrepentant loyal
keys for Jupiter and Saturn,
for Mars and Neptune,
making a blank bland tune
for extraterrestrial beings for fun.
On the cosmic moors
the moon's whirling feet
cease for my discordance.
What a slurred entrance
by F in D major!
Only a novice--an amateur.
I'm no magnificent pianist,
O majestic Mercury.
Summon the stars the search
to lead for a supreme virtuoso,
one of no incongruent ingenuity
like this dilettante--a pseudo
music polymath, counsels Thebe.
A Mozart, Beethoven, or Bach?
Any of the greats scored above, as well
as geniuses like David and Handel.
Impressario fly! Flee thou away
and go get a classic maven.
Otherwise sleep there forever at Erebus,
never dream of waking up in Eden.
Circuitous world stops: strings break off
at the Earth's axis--
the Sun's panels pause
and darkness' movement begins
its own obscure notes to improvise:
apace demented melody
is released,-- bathos of symphony:
tinny wine of concord
settles on the lees of discord.
Asteroids hooting some ***** calls
when into the grand chrysolite chamber--
in her tailor-made blistering gown--
strolls in the coruscating Venus
in the sturdy arm of jaundiced Uranus,
garbed in his glistening stomacher.
Like a ball, all eyes are bouncing
hither and thither, up and down,
googling and ogling,
once more at them leering,
gaping at the irreplaceable paintings of
da Vinci, Picasso, and Van Gogh
cavorting upon the weightless walls
to the romantic performance of Strauss
in the palace orchestral of Bacchus.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
I'm roaring towards the sun,
in an aluminum bubble.
My spirit, lacks wings, to fly
but there's a spoiler,
fitted, to the silvery minivan's frame.
So, we drive down the day...
coldly harmonious,
as it glitters back,
in mild flashes.
Memory, is stagnant;
flecks of it shine, back, at me--
capsules, of captured thought,
suspended movement...
the world, itself, becomes gelatinous.
The park, where I almost--
the long-absent faces,
of growing boys, and girls,
concealing toothy monsters.
Unsung heroes, and wandering bards...
Freezing sidewalks,
slanting homes...
places I knew, so well;
they stand, still,
and appear to register
no change, and no difference.
Christ, with his pale, pinned arms,
and pain-stricken face,
gazes down, on all these sins
a placid totem,
on his marbled cross...
an overgrown snowdrop,
crying mildly,
into polluted grasses, below.
A sweet song, emits
from surrounding speakers
and it becomes tangled,
in its own chords.
It breaks, in my throat,
like tinted glass...
and suddenly,
my eyes, are full,
of flooding,
unshed tears.
Their sorrow, needles
at sore, spent cheeks.
The rain, which pinks, soft clay
is hard, and salted,
and as it beats down, onto my skin,
I can feel the sunlight working
its gentle,
tumble-dry magic,
and finessing them clean, again.
I turn my face, away
to stare out, silent,
through the unbroken window.
I'm sobbing, harder, now,
and I have no idea,
how I started...
or why,
it won't stop...
but still, the rain,
rolls down shaky gutters;
unrepentant,
and unrepressed.
The wild weeds, of the garden,
are well-fed, indeed
yet overwatered,
beneath leaky clouds,
and graying seams.
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 6:46 AM UTC
I have come to the temple
Of your body. I kneel and prey
Like a sinner. The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances. Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 7:21 PM UTC
The knicks and the knacks of you and I.
The knicks as you chisel tru the glass enclosure around my heart.
The knacks of.. of.. of.. you on I…
Tear the walls down,
I mean beat the walls now.
The knicks and the knacks that have come to define our pact,
our pack,
our.. Knacks..
I visualize and shiver,
even in the shower the gentle whisper..
Touch…. Your… Toeeee……s
Oh stop it,
ur making me blush,
making my heart rush
The knicks and the knacks that have come to define US…
But wait,
hol-up!
Isn’t that what you wanted US to be?
The ability to derive pleasure selfishly.
Your narcissistic tendencies,
expecting me to conform to this atrocity…
But I did…..
Oh yes I did…
and foolishly,
candidly,
unrepentant in every way,
I enjoyed every knick,
every knack,
in our little knick knack
------
you can check out this poem and my other works here http://tonipayneonline.com/poetry-by-toni-payne/
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
**She bared my heart, that I did not know I owned,
and led me to the light. To redemption? Back to Hell?
To some in between twilight...**
*He saved my life, but ****** my soul,
confusing me my way. To Love?! To Hate?!
To find a hole and hide away...*
**I scream her name...
But I am alone, and only unrepentant ghosts can hear.**
*He can never know...
That much- Thank God- I know that much is clear.*
**I cry, and Demons are not moved;
To them, seeing a man in pain- even their king- is a sight not so queer.**
*I cry, and Angels do not care;
The only waters shed in heaven are joyful, pious tears.*
**When I left, my soul came again unlatched;
and my heart closed, left again to cruelty's treason.**
*When I returned, my wings were intact;
but my heart burned for the reason.*
**Though you thought I hid
my face from shame;
All the rage and pain... for you? All I did,
I would do it all again.**
*When you left, to my shame,
my heart followed you to Hell.
Though you wear such rage and pain...
I confess you wear it well.*
But he can never know my shame
But you do not care to hear my pain.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
The chemo makes you tired at first,
So you tend to sleep the day of treatment.
But throughout the week,
The radiation takes its toll.
I watch it slowly unfurl inside of you.
Your joints ache like there are embers between the bones,
And your belly fills with hot, heavy lead,
And your tonsils swell with fluid,
And your ******* traitorous with tumors, are sore and bruised.
This is a pain that eats at you:
Your nerves, your patience, your kind words.
You’re a ***** Vicious and unrepentant. It hurts.
I become petty and spiteful,
Convinced you are determined to make me suffer with you.
You tell me that I don’t care about you anymore.
And I ask you why you can’t appreciate the things I do for you more.
But today,
You showed me how your hair had lost most of its ***** curls,
The follicles soft and preparing for departure,
And you cried because your wig, while pretty, didn’t look like you.
I can only hold your swollen hand
And promise to draw your eyebrows for you.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 1:16 AM UTC
Allowing a wall
Before their rational
Thinking stand,
Inured to their heinous deed
Of every brand,
From head to toe
Involved in corruption grand,
Also while fellow citizens
Gasp for air,
Not giving an ounce of care,
Barefacedly they dare
Unjust war to declare!
"Valorous,wiping you out
We shall make the land bare!"
"Chained, cruel and corrupt
Honest - thieves and cut-throats
Us,to court you took
To punish us by the book
Such a move by hook or crook
We shall abort
Haven't it dawned on you the import?
--the select few
From the palace to port
As autocracy is our wont,
And zone of comfort
If stripped of this right
For us it will not be all right!
Though finger countered,
We hail from an ethnic group,
Marked brave
And which we could mobilize,
As our selfishness and brutality
It seems oblivious to realize.
Though during our hay days
Its plight we failed to mollify
Massaging its ego
The call for unjust war
We shall amplify
Unrepentant ,
We should
Wage a fight.
Though some of us
Are on the run,
As blood is thicker than water,
With the credulous
That fight for us
Emerge victorious we can.
To reinstate
Rule of the gun
On which
The international
Community
Has put a ban.
But
"To flee pang-of-conscience
How fast be the pace?
No need it is no where in place"
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 3:40 AM UTC
How was it there in Isengard,
Former haven of the proud,
Whose hollowed valley hid the rot
Beneath its treeless hills,
Ancient machinations tunneled far below
The smooth, impervious tower of Saruman,
The Iridescent Dazzler,
Whose quiet words slipped Sauron's thoughts
Inside our weaker minds?
Venom running hot...then changing cold
Within old Saruman on Gandalf's salutation:
"Saruman the White,"
Changing Truth for truths,
Something totally desired.
"I prefer Saruman the White!"
I think old Gandalf said
While he was still "The Gray,"
(Just before his lofty spire stay).
But evil magic has its ends,
Tendrils turn upon themselves,
Vines tangling slow or fast,
Returning to the evil doer's door
While Good climbs steadily to new beginnings
Rooted in the Old and True,
Reaching for the sun.
Old Ents in righteous anger
Broke dams, diverted streams to flood
The war machines of Isengard,
Drove Orcs and Wargs and Trolls to doom,
Drowned the furnaces...
Then, mourning tree-limbed kin,
Greeted Gandalf on his way to greater things,
And pledged themselves to holy war.
Saruman the Proud,
The sooty iridescent,
The abject coward,
Stripped of power,
Fled unrepentant
Into the mists of Middle Earth
While Sauron's eye glared
West and East,
Wraith-seeking
Frodo and
The Ring.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
clutching at pebbles
thrown hard into sky as birds
bitter yolk of unceasing raindrop
ideals personified, then scattered in leaf
a coarse blending of the soul and what is
scream of forgotten swing alone in sunshine
a fear internalized, an unquenched song of watery despair and silence
pacing, pacing, toward and away from a melody that is
as intangible as balloons whispering to decaying stars
fading into nothingness, brief respite, void of sound, emptiness most
profoundly pierced with kaleidoscopic shards of senses and memory;
with music of blueberries, gleefully dropped
into tinny pails overflowing from wistfulness
with touch of unblossomed rosebuds admired,
unyielding like crabapples moist in calloused palms
with smell of tree, unrepentant and unchanging,
yet gnarled and longing, indistinct, uncertain
with taste of wind, speckled purity of truth elusive,
of realization categorized, of wispy but unrelenting passion
with the image of a hope
etched, recessed, scorned, repressed, grasped, suspended in song
the maybe’s and the why’s
the can’t’s and the shouldn’t’s
the have-to’s and the why’s
then slowly fingers defiantly uncurl from stone, in motion unrefined
and quietly, fervently; quietly, fervently, I begin to sing...
a mottled snapshot of my mind.
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 8:40 PM UTC
Unrepentant with a hole in her soul
The brass faced liar has steely control
Nothing fazez her. no fib was too big or small. Man this girl was a smooth criminal and a really close acquaintance
She would give a polygraph the shakes
and it's our little secret. umm, Mom and dad know.
family secret.
I reversed engineered the brass faced liar
and all the tumblers clicked.
The truth to her is like Kryptonite to Superman.
I dropped a small stone down her throat one day and counted to ten
before it hit bottom with a far away clunk..
Faceof brass ,heart of stone.animal rescuer
Liar to the bone. Manipulates children poor self esteem
Brass faced liar isn't what she seems.
Out. To impress now.finally starting to dress now
Drawing flys like rotten meat.
Wicked comes in all shapes and sizes
Turn back the covers,know what your surprize is ?.
A zombie in a guilded mask.
Long dead and putrid..a walking talking husk.
Lies pour out of her mouth like green blowflies
And crawl back in under her disguise.
To fester.
Brass face jester
R.I.P.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 9:24 PM UTC
Sound of a pen clattering
Admonishing beauty of arts rendering
Lines of rhyme rhyming
Mixed with rhythm rhythming
Like a poem life flowing
Like a drama life pushing
Like a prose life rushing
And then comes representing
Unrepentant life projectoring
The literati's lyrical lyricalling
Recalling the gods of writing
With written words calling
Calling calling calling coming
And hence societal ills hiding
Bad leaders, leadership running
Disillusioned souls troubling
Marginalised masses crying
And crime rate like jet flying
Bombs like pure water exploding
Politicians still stealing and looting yet fearing
Fear! phobia! fear embracing
Minimum wage hurting Governors like bee stinging
Unemployment destroying like earthquaking
Half baked graduate graduating
Our education unseriously provoking
Undefined boundaries exposing
Immigrants immigrating
Police, Soldiers, customs, Road safety, etc all corrupting like they feeding...
Inec election in chaos resulting
Nigeria a name of peoples's confusing
NEPA, WATER, ROAD, HOSPITAL unrealistic absurding...
Corruption! corrupting!! corruptioning!!! Are we starting or finishing? Building or destroying?
The lyric of the literati busy deconstructing...
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
.
I have come to the temple
Of your body. I kneel and prey
Like a sinner. The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances. Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
Achia,
That's the name of my town.
There's a path surrounded by yellowing bushes that go green in autumn,
Brown in the harmattan,
that joins Achia to Jato-aka town.
At the head of this path is a junction
You'll notice another path to your left here.
And that our own path is to the right of it
I call it our own because that's the only path followed by the villagers.
The other hasn't been in use in recent years
You can see the undergrowth,
Bent and unrepentant,
Daring you to trample on it and watch it regrow
Everytime we use the right, i always wonder
Where would you lead me to, Left?
Are you like many of our life's (in)decisions,
The unexplored choice?
The one that time will eventually erase?
So I've decided,
That the next time we get to that point
I'll take the road less favored
And see the quiet secrets that it has had to maintain over the years.
And i hope that that will make all the difference to it.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 11:59 PM UTC
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Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
let us be junkies
bleed together
tremble as our blood is cleansed
from this, our senseless craving.
there is heaviness upon our chests
our breath staggering
from the jagged sharpness of memories
peeling the fresh edge of our wounds
freely flowing now,
leave us just the hint of death
upon our pale, spent skin.
alone.
i feel alone.
i am muted as i recede
from the fury of my addiction,
hearing alone my agonizing cry
my flesh shredded
my bones crushed
my tears crusted
its meaning has long left me
curled and cold in a corner
with the wan smile of surviving...
there is no pity left in the melting.
somehow, i forgot
how hell would figure in this,
my make-believe heaven.
where with each gaze,
you bare my soul
with each breath,
you burst me raw and dripping
with your fingertips
you strip me into my elements
and have me dance buck-wild
soaked in the perfect concoction
of madness and affection
stewed in boiling buckets of ***
as thick as love slathered
upon our irreverent whispering lips...
but hell has arrived
silent, thoughtful, real...
i feel it creeping in this empty room
where the fulminant joy of your laughter
fades into a hollow echo
and your eyes are somewhere else
where the light of the sun
is not blue but grey.
you are oozing from my open vein
and i am numb
hell has arrived
at the break of a dark winter.
i succumb to my fate
an unrepentant, miserable ******
wallowing in shaking fits,
my vulnerable shell in a million shattered shards by my feet,
looking at the permanence of your tracks
as you walk away...
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC