deepundergroundpoetry.com
I slaughter myself
Slain by myself
I put pieces of me
on a shelf.
The pieces are books
written in blood
on skin hanging by hooks.
Blood, skin, meat...
And the more I bleed,
the more you can read.
I slaughter myself,
to fill the shelf.
And to fill the hole,
that's in my soul.
I put pieces of me
on a shelf.
The pieces are books
written in blood
on skin hanging by hooks.
Blood, skin, meat...
And the more I bleed,
the more you can read.
I slaughter myself,
to fill the shelf.
And to fill the hole,
that's in my soul.
Published 18th Dec 2013
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likes 3
reading list entries 1
comments 6
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The author encourages honest critique.
18th Dec 2013 7:13pm
21st Dec 2013 7:58am
19th Dec 2013 4:29am
this poem makes me aspire on my life, and how I perceive it. and i thank you in a chimerical handshake
21st Dec 2013 8:00am
Anonymous
19th Dec 2013 11:53am
Butchering with words.....but a dark creative write though....
