deepundergroundpoetry.com

subtext i

 
[v]
the ocean is black;  
it's just the dirty fingernail ov the moon
& me with a pocketful ov stones not for skipping  
across the mirror ov water stretching from here  
to the nothingness between where the surf sucks  
at my skin & tugs my bones to there_
i erased my footnotes from everything
& kissed your eyelids because there was never  
anything i coveted more  
than being breathless in a world i
couldn't understand  
 
[iv]
i sing & i cry
{not necessarily in that order
not necessarily at the same time}
i am not so pretty when i do;
cover the mirrors  
there is something lurking  
in my eyes  
in empty doorways  
in my fucking marrow  
an itch so deep inside i  
can't claw deep enough to scratch  
i am unraveling at the seams ov myself  
seems i can't  
i can't  
i can't  
i can't  
i can't  
stop looking in places best left unseen,  
my eye at the keyhole ov your life  
goddamned blind, motherfucker
with a half-prayer on my lips
that no god will hear;  
i'm dead & missed the memo
 
 
[iii]
are you sipping water too?
{don't ask if you don't understand,  
i cannot bear questions
don't respond,  
i cannot bear answers}
it's the violins, i think, i think it may be the fucking violins  
weeping ceaselessly for three days ~
... i sway in staccato, so somewhere not here,  
elsewhere & nowhere
dance 128 beats too slow, a stuttering rhythmless rise & fall  
ov limbs out ov sync  
yet a perfect echoing chaos ...
 
[ii]  
it is,  
though it is not entirely, yes?  
perhaps just so ...
... my world has condensed to the macabre music box  
i've built from tears & cum  
as i liquesce thru the eye ov a needle  
{one more drop  
to sleep without dreams}  
 
[i]
they come  
inevitably  
all ov them, even then
{despite & those,
do you understand?}  
those not being then  
not sure i understand  
not anymore really  
truth be told, i might one day  
too late  
& just in time
Earth_Child
Written by Earth_Child (shadoe)
Published
Author's Note
if i... if i could just... eat his skin like a whole almond...
... is this too macabre a request as a last meal?
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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