deepundergroundpoetry.com
Welcome home
He's just sitting there
waiting
Two bottles, too many
Thoughts saturated
in anger, vengance
and love
Whiskey vapours flood
Setting the atmosphere
He's just sitting there
Waiting
Lights all out
Darkness feeding him
Quenched with hate
Sits in silence
The minute hand,
The old clock
Counting down
He's just sitting there
Waiting
Waiting for footsteps
They will arrive soon
She's like clockwork
Calculated and
cunning
He's just sitting there
Waiting
He hears her heels
The hooves trot closer
Her key scratches,
finds its home
He's just standing there
Waiting
Figure fills the doorway
He smells her betrayal
over his induced
Saturated despise
She looks so small,
so innocently fragile
As she presses
the door gently shut
His hands are shaking
Blood burning up
Her deceitful stench
Grows insufferable
She turns, reaches
for the light switch
He lunges forwards
Blank with fury
His hands hit
into her throat
She tried a scream
He was too quick
Slams her back hard
Maintaining grip
Her head forced
Into the wall
The plaster cracks
Cradels her head
His hands tighten
Constricting
Her skin so fair and soft
Her neck so brittle
She kicks her legs
Panic lets them buckle
Her hands everywhere
Scratching, hitting
Helpless
He stares into her
Wide eyes scrambling
He watches her try
to breathe, to live
He wants to let go
It's too late now
He watches the veins
Sprint across her face
Eyes shooting red
A bloody supernova
Then they roll back
She's not there
His hands still firm
around her throat
His fingers spring back
Leaving her to slide
down the helpfull wall
He falls to his knees
Shaking and sobbing
Was it her fault?
The drink?
He struggles to adjust
Reality seeps in slowly
His organs turning
A fountain of vomit
Explodes from his sour,
vengfull mouth
He creeps cowardly
to view his love
Still
The most beatiful ceature
He ever saw
"what have i done?"
He gasps
Welcome home conscience
waiting
Two bottles, too many
Thoughts saturated
in anger, vengance
and love
Whiskey vapours flood
Setting the atmosphere
He's just sitting there
Waiting
Lights all out
Darkness feeding him
Quenched with hate
Sits in silence
The minute hand,
The old clock
Counting down
He's just sitting there
Waiting
Waiting for footsteps
They will arrive soon
She's like clockwork
Calculated and
cunning
He's just sitting there
Waiting
He hears her heels
The hooves trot closer
Her key scratches,
finds its home
He's just standing there
Waiting
Figure fills the doorway
He smells her betrayal
over his induced
Saturated despise
She looks so small,
so innocently fragile
As she presses
the door gently shut
His hands are shaking
Blood burning up
Her deceitful stench
Grows insufferable
She turns, reaches
for the light switch
He lunges forwards
Blank with fury
His hands hit
into her throat
She tried a scream
He was too quick
Slams her back hard
Maintaining grip
Her head forced
Into the wall
The plaster cracks
Cradels her head
His hands tighten
Constricting
Her skin so fair and soft
Her neck so brittle
She kicks her legs
Panic lets them buckle
Her hands everywhere
Scratching, hitting
Helpless
He stares into her
Wide eyes scrambling
He watches her try
to breathe, to live
He wants to let go
It's too late now
He watches the veins
Sprint across her face
Eyes shooting red
A bloody supernova
Then they roll back
She's not there
His hands still firm
around her throat
His fingers spring back
Leaving her to slide
down the helpfull wall
He falls to his knees
Shaking and sobbing
Was it her fault?
The drink?
He struggles to adjust
Reality seeps in slowly
His organs turning
A fountain of vomit
Explodes from his sour,
vengfull mouth
He creeps cowardly
to view his love
Still
The most beatiful ceature
He ever saw
"what have i done?"
He gasps
Welcome home conscience
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