Come stitch up your tattered heart
With thousands of tiny razor cuts
Look how bright the welling blood
Keep it wet or it'll cake like mud
Feel how strong each shuddering beat
Slippery and slick with heaving heat
Hear how fleeting your fancy tune
How soon it'll all come to ruin
Taste the tears that fed your flesh
My embrace like a slithering sash
Savour your last breath of swine
And now, let mine be thine.
wingsofdeath
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3 comments:
HI MR TSENG. how's life?
MR TSENG!!! YOU STILL OWE ME ESCAPE TICKETS!!!
After repetitively hitting ENTER 3 times in a row with little success -- here goes nothing!
Really, you should get a tagboard (:
Great poem, the stark imagery's the first thing I caught on to (as always -- say pink elephants, I'd see pink elephants to listen). Lyrical, simple, and easy on the palate (I'm having a pretty bad case of synaesthesia at moment) in the sense that I didn't experience sensory overload. The absolute lack of punctuation meant that I kept reading, non-stop, fron end to end; I enjoyed the rush, and the thrill of listening to the speed, flurry and experiencing the movement behind the words. How the progression of the events seemed continuous, spinning, and liquid.
Y'know what, I've just realised upon reading what I just wrote, that I appreciate poetry in a very strange, abstract way. Comes with having ADD, thoughts have little to do with words.
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