deepundergroundpoetry.com

Clotted

here i am
staring at a blank page.. �
drinking Hendrick's..thinking.. �
a clean slate perhaps?... �
crumple up those funky yesterdays �
empty the trash can �
start over again...from scratch �
scratch that itch �
lingering in my soul.. �
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forgetfulness � �
can be a redemptive thing �
when experiencing � �
beginner's luck �
same dance...'different tune' �
i can see my muzik �
dancing in outer-space �
i let the words guide me � �
ride me like a wild...night-mare �
running stark naked �
in darkened woodlands �
playing another game of truth dare �
or consequences.. �
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... �
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i roll with the punchlines �
the puns and innuendos and such �
back handed compliments �
knowing the 'poet' � �
speaks many languages �
i was touched by an angel so long ago �
languishing in a familiar song... �
i long to remember.. �
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... �
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i am now but a shattered mirror �
fragmented upon concrete memoirs �
Lady Death RSVP'd
her many invitations years ago...
gave me chances to opt out�
eye declined...so i decline.. regress
guess it's time
to readdress that itch
find the 'not so hidden' switch �
by scratching beneath that blank page
i find myself constantly staring at...
if only to feel what it is
to really bleed...once again.. �
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