fast heavy;
breathe it in;
ribs touching
back of spine
in a peculiar
biting agony
you learn to
live by.
head's light
soaring through
empty pages and
fluorescent rooms,
tile patterns,
cold shatters
the concentration
gnawing at the
edge of this tomb.
wither, hollow
inside is a
dull ache,
spreading its
fingers, pushing
bones out of skin;
becoming connected
between canvas and pen.
it all rushes in
colors absorbing
radial light
in different dimensions,
dithering
your
autocratic
thinking space.
place a hand from
hip to hip
and trace the map
of a place once
sunken in
and carved out
and smashed up,
but burned out
then placed on a
glass stage
to highlight it's
beautiful transparency.
you can see a spectrum on the wall behind you
bending in every tone of
manic screaming,
trembling hands, reaching
scraping away
tearing off
pieces of
already worn out fabric.
Oh,
you only think this is the bottom of everything.
Author notes
You really know nothing.
A contest entry
- & I was losing everything to be thin. by Page Deleted..
500 points, ended March 1, 22 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
wow the first 3 paraphraphs look like a girl!!
awsome! -
amazing work, i love these lines even though it was hard to select a fav
you can see a spectrum on the wall behind you
bending in every tone of
manic screaming,
trembling hands, reaching
scraping away
tearing off
pieces of
already worn out fabric."
-
What can I say? This is among your greatest writes. It's a pure column of paint and water and paper and blood.
After the first time I read this, all I could think was the feeling of an empty orgasm (no, not for any particular reason), but everything's undulating and the eyes of the narrator seem to be dashing from location to eyelids and to a new place completely. The second time has me contemplating dissatisfaction with physical self and environment. Laying on the ground brings nothing but low thoughts and euphoria.
The last lines. Wow. What a way to sculpt the bottom of a tower.
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