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incoMpEtent

 

 

 

 

 

I hear nights inhale

    the stench spread

        of a sad season I swallowed

       (but couldn't keep down)

    the moment my eyes

empty into this pillow.

 

 

For some reason,

       I realize that every morning,

             I find myself climbing

                     on top of the clouds,

                    to stop time on my face

                     and keep forever away

                       from nothingness

   

                (then blunder).

 

 

Failure

        has one day

                    less to live,

     since waking up in solitude

     seems as useless

     as kissing a whore.

 

         (Though I'm not superficial enough

          to appreciate the latter);

 

          regrettably I suppose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author notes

Still hoping, feeling comfortless though.

A contest entry

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Comments

1 - 7 of 7

  • Age of Rain
    November 10
    Edit | Reply
    .


  • eatingupyourmind
    October 30
    Edit | Reply
    forgot applause

  • eatingupyourmind
    October 30

    Edit | Reply
    This seems so heart felt,
    i wish you the best of luck

    you drew me in so quickly, help me captive

    i love it
    love it
    love it


  • morphis78
    October 29

    Edit | Reply

    Dark

    It comes across as a bit self-loathing...but in a good way....reminds me of The Smiths(early days). Well done.


  • Breathe-Gray
    October 29

    Edit | Reply
    This write makes me experience emotion. For me, it's uncommon to be spurred into feeling by something someone else has written. I can't speak for others, but I know this holds meaning to me.

    Normally the ambiguity would turn me away, but you made it compelling. Your style is certainly unique in that. Keep writing, I hope it gives you an outlet.


  • Poetic Tasha Moderators member
    October 29

    Edit | Reply
    give it time love....
    hope is good. I hope for the best for you
    great write

    Tasha


  • Cyber Artist Moderators member
    October 29

    Edit | Reply
    The deeper the wound the longer to heal. No easy fixes only that life goes on and on and one day this will be absorbed in to the big round jar we call Experience.Until then its a well for poetry... keep smiling through the grimaces
    Cyber Artist

1 - 7 of 7