I have swallowed my tongue
And alleviated war
I had a cast moulded to my lips
Turning pink, green grass hurts
Him and lets me fall
I am the desire
The aching wound in the knee
Of a fallen soldier
I have ingested my heart
The saviour of your soul
Am I not the one you call messiah?
How blatantly blasphemous
I will revel in your glory
You are not a surgeon
Or a bruising barricade
Yet you leave me wide open - adolescent
Braving the newly fought surrender
I climb the crater
Wide eyed, muddy - my
Superstitious disguise
I have buried my reclusive spirit
Become celebratory
There is no memorial of your browning bones
And sparsely ever present rhythm.
Adding your comment: