Head down
Black entrails entwined
Around my throat
Choking the life
And whispering
Sweet nothings
Of mindless contempt
The residue of years
Of churning anger
The spittle of malice
And undisputed loathing
Clawing its way
Up from within
Until it’s without
Plastering the walls
Layering the floors
With enmity
Sweet nothings
And condescension
Are all that’s left
For me
I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.
powerful poem, Steve,
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Thanks, Francine. One of the many useful byproducts of my black dog days. Pain for art. It’s a reasonable trade, I think. 🙂
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Oh this is good!
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Thanks, Tara! 🙂
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