literaryfiend
04-16-2012, 03:31 PM
Hi, I came out of a pretty bad break-up a few months ago. This is one of the ways I'm trying to deal with the loss. Sorry if it's a bit grim, Ben
Raw
Here was no time to talk of other things.
Bodies poorly-painted in middle light,
Robbed by a twitch of rot and boiled in night,
To the indifferent flap of sacred wings.
Too incarnate to cancel out the head,
Bile floats these naked scratches ever down
Into the stark meat staking out each frown,
Into the salt skin tricks we cannot shed.
The scent of nerves, the strumming of the lash
Against love and its frail glass almost-harm.
The need to steel pig words into cheap arms
And slow the dust-dew’s stiff, unmannered smash.
Stale fingers snapping with arthritic sound,
A screeching star settles beyond the cold
In the limp hours between growing old
And merely losing a grip on slopped ground.
Each garden slithers on its gut-spilled grease,
Cracked green fire falls on a faithless core,
All rivers bite through to this barren shore
And all the stones they carry cripple peace.
Raw
Here was no time to talk of other things.
Bodies poorly-painted in middle light,
Robbed by a twitch of rot and boiled in night,
To the indifferent flap of sacred wings.
Too incarnate to cancel out the head,
Bile floats these naked scratches ever down
Into the stark meat staking out each frown,
Into the salt skin tricks we cannot shed.
The scent of nerves, the strumming of the lash
Against love and its frail glass almost-harm.
The need to steel pig words into cheap arms
And slow the dust-dew’s stiff, unmannered smash.
Stale fingers snapping with arthritic sound,
A screeching star settles beyond the cold
In the limp hours between growing old
And merely losing a grip on slopped ground.
Each garden slithers on its gut-spilled grease,
Cracked green fire falls on a faithless core,
All rivers bite through to this barren shore
And all the stones they carry cripple peace.