Death of Words

Words crowd my head

Tangling themselves

Just behind my teeth

Which bite them in half.

They die on my lips.

All my good intentions

Lie in ruins, wrecked,

Let me sink into the depths,

Let me slumber until

The end of time's beginning.

I long for numbing cold,

I tire of feeling,

Of feeling anything at all.



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bishu's picture

You put in words magnificently

the truth of feelings of a writer... Nice



life_used_to_be_lifelike's picture

I really like your style of

I really like your style of writing. I have been reading a few of your poems and they are brilliant and have their own bite. Consider me a new fan Of yours. 

"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.

SigmaVentice's picture

Very nice poem, a very

Very nice poem, a very depressing dreamscape.

My Alter/Ego=Sigma

My Better Side=Aigma

My Terrible Side=Myself

allets's picture

A Long Sleep

until "...the end of time's beginning..." Regret and intentions are hell's paving stones. Sad moment - well written ~allets~