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A
poem is never finished, only abandoned. ~Paul Val�ry
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Those Things In Your Head
Blood thirsty beings feed on your discontent Lapping the tears from cheeks Wallowing in your grief, far from remorse They've been here for weeks Feeding from your pain and despair Swallowing disillusions, digesting your fear Demons all, none your friend Waiting and hoping,choking on their glee Demanding your time come to an end Ingesting your hopelessness, longing for your heart To break, to lick upon the shattered pieces Waltzing over the glittering shingles Digging into soles uncovered, cutting deeply Poison infested romantics, shame you to the core Begging for you to hear them, deep inside their soul Chasing your problems away to make room for theirs Allowing your heart to wither and mold Gore and ooze, seep from open wounds They lick it as though ambrosia Never caring to ask the simple words, Too intent upon their own world.
raw || truth |
