It's okay to convulse; it doesn't hurt yet.
It's okay to gag; no one hears.
It's okay for my eyes to make a mess on my face
My frivolous makeup can wait
For this.
It's good to remember the swords he drew
At a time like this.
It's good to rehash in regurgitation
Softly scream it to the dirty pretty garbage
To which I banish these stubborn remnants of false nourishment
For when else can it be done? When else am I so raw?
How else might I wipe him from the visions
Unearthed by a nightly subconscious that so easily betrays?
How else might I remind myself
That these dreams ought to be nightmares!
For tomorrow, I must deprive again, and better.
Seek further penance and a stronger high
And whisper in reassurance to some lavish deity...
"I'm not doing this for him."
Author notes
You said "no dirty pretty garbage." I tried to make a slightly ironic twist on that based on a very recent experience of mine...hope it's decent enough to avoid DQ.
A contest entry
- Not For The Weak III by Immortal Obscurity.
1750 points, ended July 4, 21 entries
Honorable winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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If you know me, you'll also know that I always love a crazy twist on the options. This blew my mind, and I really enjoyed your take on my little catchphrase thinger. This definitely has potential to win something shiny... Well done, and thanks for entering!
Laura
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