the world
beyond sanity
where the metaphysical becomes tangible
hinted at times
by the homeless shadow
that makes you look twice
by the heat of a body
when all there is is you
by the aroma of dreams past
when logic suggest otherwise
by the voice that speaks only to you
it breathes
any life to dream of
any simple joy to attain
sucked in
releasing in a whistling shriek
like bloodied fingernails
tearing hard against rock
trying to etch memories
something
anything to remember
my son's innocence
my husband's love
but all that's left
my tormentor
traveling through space
motionless
except for his pupils
clinging to mine.
1 comments:
I haven't had much poetry in me lately, but since I haven't posted in a while, I felt inclined to put something, anything, up: an older poem, revised with stanza breaks, omission of all punctuation and capitalization, and a few word changes as well.
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