This Poem
The poem will kill you
Tear your insides out,
Leave a rotting corpse,
Expose weakness,
When none exist,
Stirs the middle of the night,
No rhyme,
No reason,
To expose...,
Bring,
Steal,
Change,
Create new,
Life,
Death.
The poem will color the soul
Scatter rose petals,
Upon your lover’s bed,
The walk onto her pillow,
Within her weeping heart,
And bloodless lust,
Expose,
Reinvent
Deliver new,
Message,
Where ancient,
Horror lays,
Life,
Death,
Dreams.
The poem will taunt you
Manipulate your mouth,
Into twisted lies,
Unbelievable truths,
Into her mind,
Burrow deeply yours,
Snake its way,
From the subliminal,
Burst into consciousness,
Lighting fires,
Along the way,
Deception,
Where none doth dwell,
Erase integrity,
With remorse,
This poem will kill you
But a mass,
A giant heap upon the bed,
As she torments,
Tortures,
Lifeless cadaver,
Breathing,
Heart quickly beating,
She is gone,
And here no more,
Yet all around,
This poem does taunt,
Finds its way,
To haunt,
To tease,
Torment,
Tangle your mind,
Into itself,
Freedom,
Less there be freedom,
For us to grasp.
This poem will kill me.
But for this poem,
Most of me,
Is long since dead.
Limbs quietly numb,
Tips of toes and fingers,
Tingle silent,
As the blood drains,
Ever quickening,
Timeless spinning,
Dizziness building,
Glass bottom floor,
Pitiful drowning,
Dying dead man,
Feeds from tight lipped,
Ticks and tape worms,
Feel the skin,
Crawl and crave,
Digging deeper,
Until a final rest within,
The ever sinking grave.
Tear your insides out,
Leave a rotting corpse,
Expose weakness,
When none exist,
Stirs the middle of the night,
No rhyme,
No reason,
To expose...,
Bring,
Steal,
Change,
Create new,
Life,
Death.
The poem will color the soul
Scatter rose petals,
Upon your lover’s bed,
The walk onto her pillow,
Within her weeping heart,
And bloodless lust,
Expose,
Reinvent
Deliver new,
Message,
Where ancient,
Horror lays,
Life,
Death,
Dreams.
The poem will taunt you
Manipulate your mouth,
Into twisted lies,
Unbelievable truths,
Into her mind,
Burrow deeply yours,
Snake its way,
From the subliminal,
Burst into consciousness,
Lighting fires,
Along the way,
Deception,
Where none doth dwell,
Erase integrity,
With remorse,
This poem will kill you
But a mass,
A giant heap upon the bed,
As she torments,
Tortures,
Lifeless cadaver,
Breathing,
Heart quickly beating,
She is gone,
And here no more,
Yet all around,
This poem does taunt,
Finds its way,
To haunt,
To tease,
Torment,
Tangle your mind,
Into itself,
Freedom,
Less there be freedom,
For us to grasp.
This poem will kill me.
But for this poem,
Most of me,
Is long since dead.
Limbs quietly numb,
Tips of toes and fingers,
Tingle silent,
As the blood drains,
Ever quickening,
Timeless spinning,
Dizziness building,
Glass bottom floor,
Pitiful drowning,
Dying dead man,
Feeds from tight lipped,
Ticks and tape worms,
Feel the skin,
Crawl and crave,
Digging deeper,
Until a final rest within,
The ever sinking grave.