deepundergroundpoetry.com
Overhang
It's morning. You should have left by now. But you like to linger. I can still feel you inside me. I try to expel you. Shiraz stains the toilet bowl. But still you remain. What do I have to do to get you out of my veins? You answer me with a razor blade. But how long would I have to bleed before you just leave? You're mocking me. You always speak before you think! What is that you say? You keep me warm on lonely nights? But you make me sweat during the day. Now you think you make my heart race? Are you referring to the palpitations? You're killing me! You always think you have a solution to everything. But you are not my saviour. Go back to your bottle. Where you belong.
Published 24th Jun 2012
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The author encourages honest critique.
Anonymous
24th Jun 2012 3:43am
Spent many a morning with the overhang, an uncaring friend.
Strider.
Strider.
27th Jun 2012 9:33am
It becomes more alive, more conscious, more real when you don't want it there. This feels like you were tearing a beast from your vision in its rhythm and word. A good nightmare trip.
