Wandering on the Prose..
Reading peoples hearts.
A glimpse into the lives of many.
So much talent.
So much pain.
And suddenly my words seem inadequate.
And I've got half a mind to give up on my dreams.
Why write.?
When I'm not as lyrical as Mel.
And I'll never emulate pain like YAngeL.
Couldn't be as empathetic as Shells even if I tried.
Impossible to imitate DaveK's darkness.
My flow is so subpar.
When Sandflea68 can evoke madnes or lust with the flick of a finger.
So many gifts.
And mine is sorely lacking.
Surely I should bow out.
Wandering on theProse.
I'm going nowhere fast.
Changing
I see shadows within shadows.
Coalescing and changing forms.
Ambivalent and menacing.
They are coming after me.
I hear voices in my head.
Screaming and begging freedom.
They want blood to coat my hands.
And bang on mental walls.
Demanding their release.
Dying so I may kill.
I feel an evil force.
He's hissing at my back.
Clawing and ripping out my hair.
Half crazed and full of lust.
He refuses to let me go.
I smell sulfur in my veins.
My demons embedded deep.
I cannot cut them out.
They wish to be a part of me.
I wish them apart from me.
Blood rushing as they cover me.
I taste blood upon my tongue.
It's choking me.
I'm dying.
And it never felt so goooooodd.
To taste the life of my captors.
Their flesh stuck between my teeth.
I belong to them now.
The devil's got a hold on me.
Tonight I'm gonna off myself.
I think I'll slit my wrists.
No pills to pop.
No gun to shoot.
No rope for noose.
I'd do ninety on the highway with my lights turned off.
I'd smash into the barrier
Except my Mama needs the car.
I'd bury myself alive or smash in my fucking skull.
Except no one to man the shovel.
Tonight I'm gonna off myself.
I need to slit my wrists.
Can't do it in the bathroom.
Can't let Mama see me like that.
Can't do it on this land.
The coyotes will eat me up.
I'll take a walk.
When it gets dark.
And slit my fucking wrists.
My book
Position
and
Place
Will have to go unfinished.
Cos I'm too damn tired to keep going...
Eternal GoodNight.
