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impromptu poeticism
03.09.04, 15:59:47
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Post #1 (permalink) |
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this is something i did a while back in computer tech. i had about 15 minutes until the bell was gonna ring and i had just, this imagery came to me. here it is. a friend is being a JACKASS right now. so i'll be quick.
__untitled due to the unknown direction of the poem__
i had...never seen anything spiral like that, tears following same motion so that she danced in a path of blood and salt and water like the world had come down from a showerhead, with her in the tow and with her eyes towards the sky.
and i turned my head to miss the crash. but the crimson of her burst left arcs and dots upon my cheek.
and the thud now plays the bass to my dreams, to twist my fantasies and drip them dark with fear and the ink of death.
her screams are scratching and scarring and scraping against the bone behind my face...just chiseling at my skull like a jackhammer alloy of love and light.
before she fell.
before she fell, they had took thorn-crowned nooses to her ankles and lynched her legs against the night, her blood rushing to her neck and through her eyes until she was weeping red towards the ground. and as she swung, a pendulum to tally hate and click and etch out seconds until my torment, she ticked out sobs at each turn of the rope. she was a marionette of dusk, eyes like glass that shot the moon from the blue, to get tangled in the lashes and drip out in a careful solution of sapphire and ember.
tears and blood. like magnets. they dropped and she followed. calves slipped from the twine and tattered her feet while she dove from the precipice of pain to spin towards the valley of death.
and i waited at the bottom... ... might as well have been a concession stand for the good i did as i observed. i'd give her a 10 out of 10 for form and prose but i wouldn't raise a syllable to hark out for her salvation, not a muscle would erupt into motion to toss my body out as down for her plummet.
she crashed. i turned. she spilt out onto my cheeks. and i traced a heart along my jawline until the substance of our love slipped off the untrimmed plains of my chin and onto my chest. this product of her crucifixion. the fountain of my wife. |
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