Habits stick out and bubbles float
through a clear glass soon to be
inflamed. Neglect lights
the match and commits
arson stopping my neurotic gait, charred
and black the burns reek of
my various insecurities and failures.
The pain almost non existent relative
to the irony when I try to distill my thoughts
into emotions. Slurred profanities
define my destroyed vocabulary
as I struggle to rip off the proverbial
blood stained shirt, exposing a
worn out chest protecting a
miserable heart. An old convict once
told me once I got to this point
I could never go back, still I
prepare for the inevitable jagged
rock ending to the perverted joke.
A contest entry
- QQQUICCKIE! by luna-midnight.
550 points, ended March 3, 5 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
aw...this is abs sad...but wonderful write, thanks for entering. and good luck
Stephanie ♥
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