They say I am a hybrid.
A dangerous mix
of emptiness and movement
that I cannot control -
but I do,
with strong fingers firmly
grasping above the fat.
I believe they call it them a "ribcage".
But I am not in their dimension.
They hurl stereotypes at you.
Their questions are answered
ambiguously,
full of double entendres
and shame and love,
and other equally undefineable
creature shows of affection.
And yes,
I'm losing them too.
I am becoming an open book,
written in invisible ink
you have yet to find a UV light
to read in the darkness.
I am lying on the floor.
Grasping at weak hair
with my brittle nails.
Whimpering, a tired animal.
Feigning sleep with eyes open,
glaring in the mirror.
There are no tears.
Only this crawling.
And the judgement heavy.
Belt buckle bruising.
Waiting for time to pass.
Tomorrow's all floating away
like clouds.
After the gum bubble bursts,
if you listen very carefully,
you may hear a whimper -
"help."
You never know its connotations.
Only that I am another hybrid,
and the day's not over yet.
Author notes
Dunno where the title came from. And the poem may not be to everyone's liking, but it's all thought out. From the use of clouds as a simile to the spacing.
Hope the contest works out for you.
A contest entry
- x Speak for the image x by x-Black-Butterfly-x.
300 points, ended June 10, 45 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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A powerful write written with the wondersa of metaphors that always catch my attention as they just add someting more deeper and meaningful to the write and really draw the reader in to think about the words and read between the lines. well done with this piece
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I liked it alot! great write keep it up!
"After the gum bubble bursts,
if you listen very carefully,
you may hear a whimper -
"help."
my absolute favorite lines!!!
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