309 Readings | 2 Ratings
tumultuous swaggering bastard
you never saw me enter
never even saw me breathe
perfect small circles of fog
onto the window
my nerves sore
i pressed on anyway
kept on every which way
until the limping ends
of my blinking clicked on
like a fascist stupor
of day-time television
i left you to bleed-out
in the corner
and ticked of number thirty-seven
on my list of things to do
before i die
i waited for you
to wake again
as a new born fragment
a dwindling remake
of a poem i wrote once before
about the hazards of a bruise
just below the left elbow
that no one else could see.
never even saw me breathe
perfect small circles of fog
onto the window
my nerves sore
i pressed on anyway
kept on every which way
until the limping ends
of my blinking clicked on
like a fascist stupor
of day-time television
i left you to bleed-out
in the corner
and ticked of number thirty-seven
on my list of things to do
before i die
i waited for you
to wake again
as a new born fragment
a dwindling remake
of a poem i wrote once before
about the hazards of a bruise
just below the left elbow
that no one else could see.
Posted 08/03/12
Recommended
372 views
413 views
566 views
Comments (0)
|
Would you like to leave a comment on this profile? Join Ink Node for a free account, or sign in if you are already a member.
|
|