If I could
Break my face
On that shiny spectre
That laughs and goads
At my reflection
I think
I might delight
In the beautiful disaster
If I could
Bleed my heart
With that same syringe
That taunted my addiction
To feeling
I think
I’d take my time
To cherish the vile tragedy
Oh if I could
Empty me of need
With lust and highs and thighs
That massaged my ego
Into orgasm
I think
I’d take my chances
And drown in the ocean instead
-
Author:
sylviasearcher (
Offline) - Published: August 8th, 2020 00:36
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
Offline)
Comments4
I think this is exceptionally good.. but personally, I would prefer some other way...
Of course... I could imagine...
I hate myself, I hate the things I've done, but I want to live. Sounds like a tormented existence. Your poem paints a very dark picture of one struggling to survive. Some very powerful phrases help to delineate that picture: "break my face on that shiny spectre'" "Bleed my heart with that same syringe," "that massaged my ego into orgasm." These are powerful images that you have created. They take your lament and infuse life into it. Well done. - Phil A.
Thank you Phil
My torment feels very alive indeed...
A sad lament - a real cri de cœur.
I do delight in beautiful disasters its what makes them beautiful.
Love your use of words.
Very cleverly done.
Brilliant write x
Thanks for reading and your encouraging words
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