deepundergroundpoetry.com
Regretfully Yours
No time for tom foolery you little shit! Making you bleed into the night with watered down ebbing wails.
Suicidal rumination cloud the mind, despoiling and vulturine the inside of divide torn into exaltation.
How sanguine hypnotizes your morose, lusting after a full moon while hammering rusted nails into oculoids; whisper to me now how much you like it.
Your fanaticism spilling over my foot, you fucking asshole, who said you could? Splicing short of your anticipation, flaccid at waist side.
Neither fooled nor hypnotized, what did you assume would occur? The ground we stand in simply a befuddled movement of lies without comprehension.
Suckle on their bereavement, for all the half eaten spoons fed to blubbering dogs.
Eons ago, when you cried, I had carressed away the tears, held your hand, helping in screams fight your fears.
I am shamefaced and attritional,
trying my best to save you, it was not enough. I am the fool, a crying jester of your forgotten life.
Holding on to the imprudence of you, to anything once good; it all dies here with you and I.
A final breath utters, "Regretfully, I couldn't be enough."
Suicidal rumination cloud the mind, despoiling and vulturine the inside of divide torn into exaltation.
How sanguine hypnotizes your morose, lusting after a full moon while hammering rusted nails into oculoids; whisper to me now how much you like it.
Your fanaticism spilling over my foot, you fucking asshole, who said you could? Splicing short of your anticipation, flaccid at waist side.
Neither fooled nor hypnotized, what did you assume would occur? The ground we stand in simply a befuddled movement of lies without comprehension.
Suckle on their bereavement, for all the half eaten spoons fed to blubbering dogs.
Eons ago, when you cried, I had carressed away the tears, held your hand, helping in screams fight your fears.
I am shamefaced and attritional,
trying my best to save you, it was not enough. I am the fool, a crying jester of your forgotten life.
Holding on to the imprudence of you, to anything once good; it all dies here with you and I.
A final breath utters, "Regretfully, I couldn't be enough."
Published 11th Jun 2016
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14th Jun 2016 6:18am
Beautiful wordplay, exploring new territory I haven't seen before. Melancholic blackness, like mascara stained cheeks, slapped red from your anger. Few things feel worse than trying to save someone. If once you don't succeed, try try again, doesn't really apply in that case, does it?
16th Jun 2016 10:15am
I am truly honored by your words, and yes it doesn't apply does it...yet we still try don't we. Much respect
