Post by Whimsical||MUSE; on Nov 22, 2011 21:53:24 GMT -5
Loneliness, into Longing, into Love
I'm grabbing for demons,
tangled in my hair --
knots from years of abuse
that cannot come undone.
Where have my scissors gone?
Shattered, no doubt --
as dessicated as my roots,
rotted, falling out of the pores:
suicidal and gleeful on the way down.
And out. Out. Out.
It's twined 'bout my fingers
like snakes,
hissing, coiling,
as nauseating as loneliness,
pitted
in my stomach,
penetrated
with sounds of rain;
I'm left gasping for breath,
for a strand of emotion
that'll hoist me up out of this
dystopian disintegration of desire.
I flounder, caught in a snarl.
Fish or demon, I've lost the way
through these thorns
of thought.
Angel or succubus, I just need a little more,
a little taste,
a little flutter, fantastical and high,
of your breath filling me up:
A little more of your existence
to solidify my reason for being.
November 22, 2011
I'm grabbing for demons,
tangled in my hair --
knots from years of abuse
that cannot come undone.
Where have my scissors gone?
Shattered, no doubt --
as dessicated as my roots,
rotted, falling out of the pores:
suicidal and gleeful on the way down.
And out. Out. Out.
It's twined 'bout my fingers
like snakes,
hissing, coiling,
as nauseating as loneliness,
pitted
in my stomach,
penetrated
with sounds of rain;
I'm left gasping for breath,
for a strand of emotion
that'll hoist me up out of this
dystopian disintegration of desire.
I flounder, caught in a snarl.
Fish or demon, I've lost the way
through these thorns
of thought.
Angel or succubus, I just need a little more,
a little taste,
a little flutter, fantastical and high,
of your breath filling me up:
A little more of your existence
to solidify my reason for being.
November 22, 2011