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sympathology

it's an impulsive prescience for me
to enter the backyard
search out a vacant plot for timeless sleep
tucked in on the verge of forgetting
that at 9:09 p.m. the wound wraps its gauze
over newly bled abrasions
and the site of the clot threatens
to lower its paling scythe
a little deeper every day

still i'll march
with resurrected barriers
guarding my relentlessness
against blind spots.
they offer false promises
/a bird thrashing in the mesh
of my windowpanes/
bait rebirth with atonement
/highway hypnosis draws
us into collision/
there's isn't any appeal left
in delay anymore

but it'll happen
as it always does
when the fractured shard of glass
rooted firmly upright in the lawn
channels its way seductively through my foot
bathes in the flowing evidence of
its immortal tribunal.
how is it that the spectral reflects everything?
or unveils the anima
that's been tortured blindly?
milgram shock therapy
leaves me unnerved
and a trailing series
of fluorescent bulbs
loves only to keep me warm



so good of you
to put the lights out






Author notes

at your own burial
don't forget to cry

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Comments

1 - 7 of 7

  • zillion
    August 5

    Edit | Reply
    I was in the mood to read good poetry so I came to your page where I was be guaranteed to find it.

    "there's isn't any appeal left
    in delay anymore"

    I love this line. I wish that I could say the same revelation has came to me, unfortunately, I am still putting off much. But I guess time heals everything, huh? Wonderful.


  • LadyAmalthea
    July 28

    Edit | Reply
    haha.
    well all i got out of it on a first read was you stepped on a sharp thing at night in your backyard.
    im sure theres more to it but im tired


  • hilly
    July 4

    Edit | Reply
    my only bone to pick is that you seem to stick with the same vocabulary in all your poems, as well as, essentially, the same format. I realized that is why it's difficult to recall your poems individually, because they all blend together or seem the same.
    I still like them though.


  • onerios13
    June 21

    Edit | Reply
    leaves me unnerved
    and a trailing series
    of fluorescent bulbs
    loves only to keep me warm

    Good lord and lady above, you sure know how to turn a sentence! lol This kind of poetry demands that you squint your eyes as you read so that the emotions squeezed between each letter can fling itself into your gut and cut a hole there to bury itself.

    I dare say that you continually impress me with your rich language and complex and delicate imagery. But I shall go ahead and say it because pieces like this make me stand up and applaud.

1 - 7 of 7