Ink stains the tips of my fingers,
Black blood dribbles from my wrists
I lick it off
We are ravenous creatures,
Never restrained by chains of convention.
It shows in our eyes, wild and wide from lack of sleep: society's finest poets,
Academics from across the globe.
We drive the nightlife, lust deprived and looking for trouble.
More blood stains our mahogany desks—
They will never come off, these scars
Never.
-
Author:
Lucy BC (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 20th, 2022 14:51
- Comment from author about the poem: First poem shared on this site xx \r\nThank you for reading!
- Category: Surrealist
- Views: 28
Offline)
Comments2
Omg this poem is so profound!!
I swear the "cleanliness" of the your poetry is so magnificent.
It reminds me of Sylvia Plath's and her bone-deep works.
Thank you for sharing your intimate poems on this site
thank you so much! I'd never written or shared any poetry in my life until yesterday, so that means a lot
Omg this poem is so profound!!
I swear the "cleanliness" of the your poetry is so magnificent.
It reminds me of Sylvia Plath's and her bone-deep works.
Thank you for sharing your intimate poems on this site
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.