deepundergroundpoetry.com
rib-cage cracked.
Rib-cage cracked,
laying still and silent like you were told to do,
you let them analyze your insides.
"This won't do," one said in discust.
You didn't know why you had done it.
You had let someone else in there.
Let him poke around, not bothering to
stitch up the wounds he left.
You just wanted him to know you.
....A weak justification at best.
But then he was gone
and you were left lying there,
exposed and vulnerable.
You realized you were much happier
without him in there,
inconsiderate as he was.
but now you didn't know what to do.
You were so ready to get up
and run again...
But there was no one there to stitch you up.
Rib-cage cracked,
you fashioned thread out of the
stifiling feeling of being alone,
and needle out of the hope you
caught on a passing breeze.
Convinced that you could do it yourself,
you proceeded to stitch up the gash
that ran the length of your heart
with your unsterilized equipment.
Your sutures were loose, uneven, and rushed,
but they held.
Blood clotted, scab began to form
and for a day you thought you'd be okay.
But the thread you'd fashioned
was laced with jealousy,
and that jealousy worked
its way into your system.
An infection.
Unexpected.
Unwanted.
Unwarranted.
Spreading.
You didn't notice it until it was too late.
It spread from your heart,
to your blood stream
and into your bones.
It worked its way up your spine
and into your brain where it nested.
It festered and grew until its presence
was unavoidably noticable.
And just when you thought you could
get up and run again,
the infection grounded you.
It knocked you out cold.
So, rib-cage cracked,
laying still and silent,
they inspected the damage.
"How could you be so foolish, child?"
they asked when you finally came to.
You tried to speak,
but shame silenced you.
"Save your energy," he said,
"this won't be easy."
And, still and silent, you gave in.
You gave up control.
They removed your inadequate, tainted sutures,
and as quickly as the infection had spread,
it receeded.
And, rib-cage cracked,
you breathed in the hope
from the passing breeze.[/font]
laying still and silent like you were told to do,
you let them analyze your insides.
"This won't do," one said in discust.
You didn't know why you had done it.
You had let someone else in there.
Let him poke around, not bothering to
stitch up the wounds he left.
You just wanted him to know you.
....A weak justification at best.
But then he was gone
and you were left lying there,
exposed and vulnerable.
You realized you were much happier
without him in there,
inconsiderate as he was.
but now you didn't know what to do.
You were so ready to get up
and run again...
But there was no one there to stitch you up.
Rib-cage cracked,
you fashioned thread out of the
stifiling feeling of being alone,
and needle out of the hope you
caught on a passing breeze.
Convinced that you could do it yourself,
you proceeded to stitch up the gash
that ran the length of your heart
with your unsterilized equipment.
Your sutures were loose, uneven, and rushed,
but they held.
Blood clotted, scab began to form
and for a day you thought you'd be okay.
But the thread you'd fashioned
was laced with jealousy,
and that jealousy worked
its way into your system.
An infection.
Unexpected.
Unwanted.
Unwarranted.
Spreading.
You didn't notice it until it was too late.
It spread from your heart,
to your blood stream
and into your bones.
It worked its way up your spine
and into your brain where it nested.
It festered and grew until its presence
was unavoidably noticable.
And just when you thought you could
get up and run again,
the infection grounded you.
It knocked you out cold.
So, rib-cage cracked,
laying still and silent,
they inspected the damage.
"How could you be so foolish, child?"
they asked when you finally came to.
You tried to speak,
but shame silenced you.
"Save your energy," he said,
"this won't be easy."
And, still and silent, you gave in.
You gave up control.
They removed your inadequate, tainted sutures,
and as quickly as the infection had spread,
it receeded.
And, rib-cage cracked,
you breathed in the hope
from the passing breeze.[/font]
Published 12th Jan 2010
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