deepundergroundpoetry.com
I Smell Like Suicide
The door is shut.
Sprayed wet in the dark.
Someone's screaming.
Please make it stop,
Then
Silence.
Dripping hot, sticky wet.
Empty silence,
Inside and out of my head.
The sound of ripping
Then
Washed in pale light.
Sitting in a pool of hot, wet.
Like a crimson carpet on the ground.
Blood.
Screaming.
Bodies, silent and staring.
Everything before empty in my mind, painted with blood.
Sprayed wet in the dark.
Someone's screaming.
Please make it stop,
Then
Silence.
Dripping hot, sticky wet.
Empty silence,
Inside and out of my head.
The sound of ripping
Then
Washed in pale light.
Sitting in a pool of hot, wet.
Like a crimson carpet on the ground.
Blood.
Screaming.
Bodies, silent and staring.
Everything before empty in my mind, painted with blood.
Published 23rd Feb 2014
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
at first I was like this is reading like a wet dream, but maybe that is what you intended, perhaps that is what would get one off, the dream of a slow shitty death :)
or maybe I don't have a clue!
write on
or maybe I don't have a clue!
write on
24th Feb 2014 3:28pm
This one is actually about my main character in my--yet to be completed--novel, Of Ancient Passages.
24th Feb 2014 12:12pm
