deepundergroundpoetry.com
Gnawing
Gnawing,
Scratching its way to the surface,
Like jagged nails etching deep gouges into my skin,
This feeling of nothing tugging, thumping, breathing,
Nothing,
As if the very breath from my lungs have been ripped out by a phantom hand,
Between life and death,
Between here and there,
Between desperation and exasperation,
Gnawing, scratching, clawing its way out
Leaving tendrils of skin and marrow,
Making its way out of the womb of my jaded heart,
Like Lazarus leaving the tomb,
Like a leper seeing daylight.
Scratching its way to the surface,
Like jagged nails etching deep gouges into my skin,
This feeling of nothing tugging, thumping, breathing,
Nothing,
As if the very breath from my lungs have been ripped out by a phantom hand,
Between life and death,
Between here and there,
Between desperation and exasperation,
Gnawing, scratching, clawing its way out
Leaving tendrils of skin and marrow,
Making its way out of the womb of my jaded heart,
Like Lazarus leaving the tomb,
Like a leper seeing daylight.
Published 25th Jan 2018
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