deepundergroundpoetry.com

Coming to Fruition

To be
Or not to be
Being quietly
An implication of existence
Youthful remnants
Settling into deep lines
Tears and blood
Swelling under
Carpeted floors
Weathered floorboards
Nailed to a cross
Iron and wire
Broken china
Finely painted and displayed
A broken tea cup
Without a drop of tea spilling
Being
So unfairly
Entitled to an ending
Unmotivated to finish it
Promising to do no harm
Jaggedly cut at the edges
Dulled blades
Sprouts in concrete
Whispered in confidence
Rain drops on dead leaves
Come back to life
To being
Green to brown
Never green again
A green child
Newly ripened
Molding at the center
Fleshy and pulsing
Wheezing in dust
Sunlight on the surface
Rippling water
A fork in the road
Crooked picture frames
Unable to right themselves
Smiling eternally encased
Shredded at the base
Clawed up the sides
Flickering to a heartbeat
Throbbing slashes
Cultivated in a rose bush
The thorns removed
Being so unnaturally
Entities against nature
Desired by the divine
Neglected for artistic expression
Reminded of its contract
To exist for the sake of existing
Bleeding green into purple
Reserved for the wealthy
Dyed with pulp
Smelling of rot
Browning at the edges
Bruising yellow and black
To be
Without being
Freshly born
Withering away

Written by Nixprty

Published 8th Jul 2024

Author's Note

The absurdity of existence, it makes perfect sense. I�m not here right now, I�ll be anywhere else. Being born, rising from the ashes of someone�s childhood home. I�m busy completing a rite of passage, becoming an ancestor. Leave a message at the tomb.