deepundergroundpoetry.com

Circling

 

I can feel the pain drawing the pulse out.
That serves me, once again.


skin tacky, gouged blade snarl


Right here, now, who inherits this spot?
What your hands hold won't help.


slithered leather, welts hiss


This is where mercy died. The fire failed,
but I will not.


fresh red runs over dried black...









Written by Atakti
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 12 reading list entries 0
comments 16 reads 926
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 7:55am by Anne-Ri999
SPEAKEASY
Today 7:46am by RyanBlackborough
COMPETITIONS
Today 7:17am by Billy_Snagg
WORKSHOP
Today 3:34am by EmoPedals
COMPETITIONS
Today 2:55am by thoughtsdie
SPEAKEASY
Today 2:42am by Carpe_Noctem