flat
on
my
back… the filthy ceiling fan
wobbled overhead, the drone of
mosquitoes and netting
darned too often to care, sewn up with whatever
was handy, dental floss and hair ribbons
rum dancing in liver
… ohhhhhhh…
eyes avoid the mirror, cracked by a .38 and jealousy, she
flat
on
her
back… baleful look below, even now, it stirs to life, erect
un-re-pent-ant bastard… I’d slice the damn thing off if it didn’t feel so
good to stroke and squeeze
slowly and carefully rising, the room spins in mockery, hurling…
what’s the use, the three-day stubble covers the scars…
dirt covers their graves… cheat me? no… no…
NO! Get away from me! Leave me alone! STOP haunting me! You made me do it, over and over again, you never stopped, you pushed and pushed and wouldn’t stop, why didn’t you stop? I needed you, you were everything to me, why? Why did you make me…
I loved you… I loved you… bed creaks, the oily steel of the barrel meets rotted teeth…
Wow! My heart’s racing after reading that. It’s poetry meets film noir. I’m very impressed.
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Thank you. A fevered dream.
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Goodness! It may make incredible poetry, but I’m sure it did little for your night’s sleep on that occasion.
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Holy Moly–raw and powerful, and like the previous commenter said, poetry meets film noir.
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When things get stirred up inside, words fire out.
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I know what you mean–thank goodness for poetry, eh? Otherwise I’d probably be homicidal…more than usual 😉
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Both your comments got spammed. I think WordPress needs to stop drinking.
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I hear that’s happening with my comments a lot…guess I should post a notice for folks to check the dang spam again. Sheesh!
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Tragic…
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