Shirking duty when eyes meet,
Spellbound in such deep heat.
Tentacles probing,
Suction pads across sore lips,
Beaks of hardened stone.
Crystallize my veins,
Wanton hate turns shuddering pain,
Smoked glass to satiate.
A wizard at play,
Manipulates the fleshy beast,
Wings grow so pigs fly.
Hit me with your own. Easy to use tool if you’re having a hard timing counting syllables: Write a Haiku
Misha
Spoken word for a special someone who holds me together when I’m on the edge. I don’t know what I’d do without. With heartfelt thanks, and wishing you the recognition you deserve.
Looking for your word(y) contributions….
Anything and everything…spit fire or choke gargling on vomit…just a message in your own words.
Shibboleth gossip sucking sobriety – Invidia Cielo E Magick phlegm archives bleed the child withdrawn. Alternate you executed each. That anxiety comes from coyotes. Splinter gash the ever caprice peptic. Wagner strangles his virtual appendix. Genocide glow sarcasm one off demon, a torso floating graffiti, please bore my pain 6. Multiplying eradication, Plow pulls angel […]
via Madness in the Museum — Charlie Zero The Poet
Blistering heat from a liquid sun,
That has burned up thoughts,
My eyes, their soul and my fun.
What brought on this sanguine approach?
Lost crouching and encroaching on sad joys and lost hope,
I’ve spun out my wheels into newly made glass,
Sand heated to molten,
Razing a shimmering patch.
Skidded to halt over stones constructed as ruts,
My misery shines through soaked in blood, tears, and guts.
Systematic breakdown of holy while high,
Head snapping, throat shaking, body trembling, while I –
Stagger to golden notes,
Choke quietly on the last strand of hope,
Chase goals through my screams,
Praying each daymare fades to a dream,
Balance desperately on life’s beam.
Stable for now,
Scared to say how.
Each breath shoves me closer to the edge,
Welling up my sweet desperate pledge,
To my kids and myself –
“I’ll change this life to a road followed out of hell.”
My mind and spirit can shatter,
Leave me mad as Alice’s hatter –
And though clouds block her burn,
To touch that blistering heat of our liquid hot sun,
Is to what I aspire and yearn.
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 