A Boy With Roses

Virus

Hungover

I breathe in the sticky air

Feeling pains everywhere

I won't surrender

 

I won't surrender to the coughs

I water like genes

Containing information

Like protein in the saliva

I am the prince, and the king

Living in a cruel and beautiful world

I can't believe all the things I've done

Which can't be undone

I am a button on the night sky

Like the moon

A button on the morning sky like the sun

Material enclosed in the capsid

With symptoms

Time is passing by at record speed

Like contaminated meat

Time is lysis

I am the architect of dreams

In the backseat

Inhaling tobacco

I glow with faith

But my head is haunted

My thoughts are like gusts of wind

Fluorescent colours burning in the night time

Airborne allergens, contradictions

Movers and makers

Clawing

My smile melted like daylight                                                                                                                                           

I am burnt out                                                                                                                       

Bone white, sclera white                                                                                                         

On a higher level                                                                                                                             

I broke like a wishbone                                                                                                             

Insisting on logistics                                                                                                                   

In a warren 

 

Marked with red

It's impossible to know

What's going to happen next

I'm as silent as Mona Lisa

I've found faith in believing

I'm Egyptian when I eat onion

In a mutant form

I've realised living is priceless

Like an agent reproducing in the cell

The kidney filters the blood

It's a domino effect

A sugar rush straight to the head

There's pressure on the bladder

I don't know what is wrong. 

 

  • Author: Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 5th, 2020 09:54
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views:
  • User favorite of this poem: dusk arising.

Comments1

  • dusk arising

    Poetry from the unwell soul can be from a previously untapped mindset. I'm feeling you've tapped into one here and bravely let it flow into words for us to read.

    It's quite magnificent and is a MUST for my favourites.

    Assuming you wrote this from your sick bed. Give overcoming your illness every ounce of positivity you have. My thoughts are with you in this.



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