Thursday, 21 November 2024

Open wounds and dirty blades,

 


You infect my mind again,

that's the name of your game,

inspecting all the treads that bind,

to see which

ones can be pulled tighter,

cutting off my blood supply.

You demand to inflict pain,

my oxygen-depleted head

is getting lighter,

making me feel

I'm slowly going insane.

You like the way the screams

spray out like a rain

of hurt being drained

by the dirty earth.

 

Open wounds

and dirty blades,

you wish to get

your grubby fingernails

underneath my skin.

Poison the well

from somewhere deep within.

Piercing my shell,

to stop me flourishing.

 

You ingest my thoughts,

leaving me comatose

and confused.

You take my heart

and toss it aside

as if it serves no use.

You rummage around inside,

filthy hands

smearing every organ,

until I'm like an oil slick,

with islands of remains

sticking out of it,

my stomach gurgles

with sick.

 

You make me cry,

those last salty tears

I have left welling up inside.

You make them flow,

a waterfall down my face,

but still, you won't go.

Still, you want to pick some more.

Taking chunks of my flesh

and cooking up a storm.

But I'll regrow.

I'll come back

so much stronger

than before.

 

 




Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
 
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0DFV8N7XH
 
Please buy a copy if you can
it would really help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle

 

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