Locked in a chest of my own hurt
No one else to throw me a buoy
Trapped and choking under the angered waves
A broken stick under more contorted branches
Claw my way back to a fabled shore
Slit my eyes again to blind me from this same fucking punishment
Cast out to sea in a crate of my own madness
My compulsion coming back is almost an orgasm to my vices
The hair that pulls and tightens itself has been freed
Only to be grabbed and choked again
Goddamn this constant current pulling me down
A deity's cruelty or my own decaying thought?
Who's voice do I trust?
Can I be fixed?
So many are too rhetorical
Why bother even building the bridge only have it burned?
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Author:
The 2 A.M Writer (
Offline) - Published: July 4th, 2016 00:37
- Comment from author about the poem: Again, subjective.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
Offline)
Comments1
Your subjective sense matches my objective intuition.
You use poetry to 'explore' yourself,
I use poetry to explore the world...
There are some details that need polish,but it's up to you... I like it.
Thank you for your comment! Most of my poems are based on my raw thoughts at the moment, hence why they seem so rant like and quick. Perhaps I could try to think more of how to word my feelings instead of getting them out as volatile. Again though Thanks!
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