You claw down to the base of your throat
through your Chest
You must must must get it out.
Bloodstain-tipped fingernails frantically plunge deeper
into the cracked flesh
Through the rotted blood sucker reversed, through the frail cage that surrounds it, the
fervored Core pulses painfully close but
you can’t reach it.
The taste of lost alleyway brawls
courses up your spindly head-pedestal
The stench of stewing terror after imminent failure
clogging up your shrieking drain.
Shifty embraces in blacked out places
guide you back to a house once called home
and you crawl to the living room
with the third wall missing
to show her your latest laceration.
It’s just another scab, you sigh,
cut off as the withered woman hisses
No!
This one’s a scar.
You rise along with your defenses
and leave, her sudden silence
still lurking with your error
in your ears.
You won’t return to her
corpse again until you
try for yourself again.
Just like last time.
--------------------------------------------------------------
weh
sharing stuff is scary
spooky poem.... success! A+. This is really good I love the corpse part.
ReplyDeleteI feel like bloodstain-tipped fingernails is unnecessarily wordy and redundant. Just bloodstained fingernails, maybe? Also, "blood sucker reversed" is too vague to me. I don't really know what you're trying to say there.
ReplyDeleteThat house once called home stanza is awesome.
I like this one. A lot. "The taste of lost alleyway brawls
ReplyDeletecourses up your spindly head-pedestal"--That line... um... makes me shiver? I agree with Robby on the house stanza as well.
Not sure if fervored works for me.... also i feel like it's not a word/spelled wrong?
But um.... yeah you're brilliant.