From Ash Anew
Like a boa wrapped around my throat,
like roots constricting my chest,
my breathing ragged and jagged,
and haggard at its best-
Emotion...
washes through me,
a mountain of moving carving rigid raw edges-
where like splinters the flesh is corrupt,
and torn;
where like Winter I am desolate, then abruptly...
I am born.
Numbness...
finds its grave,
a hallow earthen trench deciphering the end-
where like ink in the torrential rain,
a cloud disperses;
where like darkness infiltrating and condemning...
the dread worsens.
A flame...
flickers to life,
a fluid and living thing that carves my burning breaths-
where like water this boiling passion consumes,
and resurrects;
where like lava this rekindling starts from ash anew...
and perfects...
11.24.2012
YOU ARE READING
RIP
PoetryTwisted. Fearful. Beating. Harmony: Dark imagery of an ex-psychopath written in poetry. Rest in Peace, my little straight jacket. Enjoy the reading, my friends!
