Looking around
From beneath the ground
Not a single sound
Not a murmur, not a hole
Less than nothing with no one to behold.
It rains in my soul, but don’t act as if you don’t know. I saunter the streets like a soaked towel; staggering towards a shapeless beauty, entranced with an unhealthy presence.
Eyes, not mine stare into emptiness through panes constructed to keep her away. Gaping mouths make up the sky as fangs penetrate the shade in our minds.
So close yet so far away, my soul treks further and further astray. Life is benighted by the failures of countless tries as I wade infinitely in pools of black slime.
Your sense of verisimilitudinous has denatured into a hatred only talked about in the shadows of villainy.
Why wait and subjugate the possibility of something so disparate?
Why question the unanswerable?
Indeed; breathing again may appease me momentarily, but using my lungs for survival is not living. I’ve witnessed life on many levels, but always from the side. I know what it is, but not what it is to live.
Lacking in taste, but not desire… my tongue is ripped open with rusty wire so that I may know only a longing to be fed with…
…ever
evasive
tenderness.
By: Jaye Eryk
Copyright ©2009
Non-monosyllabic comments welcomed
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Just. Amazing.
I absolutely love this. -
Damn..you're soooooo good in what you do!!!!!
"but using my lungs for survival is not living. I’ve witnessed life on many levels, but always from the side. I know what it is, but not what it is to live."
I think I have no words.....
XXJeannette
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Like staring into a black pool of unknown depth, I'm drawn in. Diction is beautiful and well used, but I relate best to this part:
It rains in my soul, but don’t act as if you don’t know. I saunter the streets like a soaked towel; staggering towards a shapeless beauty, entranced with an unhealthy presence.
I love that because I understand it, and have definately been there.
One small critique. I think "verisimiltudeness" is spelled verisimilitudinous, but that's a mouthful of a word so I forgive you.
The idea of watching life constantly from the sidelines makes me sad, and I wish you'd stop letting it pass you by. We only get one chance, and it goes by much faster than we realize.
Like a symphony you end on a tender chord that reverberates through the concert hall, and I stand in the audience too entranced to remember to applaud
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yeah... it's rare, but that one got by me. i tried to wing it. (shoots self in face).
i was a much better speller in jr high (as long as i didn't have to spell 'monocotyledons').
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Sheiße! That's really good! I can relate so much with this poem, as I'm sure you know. I love the way you illustrated this poem. I love the title, it goes fantastic with the poem itself.
The first part connected with your eighth stanza makes me think of you being in your grave looking up & you're still alive but no one knows & no one cares. & just all of your diction is really great.
I wish I could write more on this but considering I've written at least 6 essays in the last 4 days & I'm supposed to write another 3 tonight I think I might just go crazy if I have to go into anymore detail than I attempted. Sorry. = /
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