Author Information
Strangled
Folder:
The Rushing Stream of Desires
Strangled.
Strands of evil seeping wild crawling mild
across my soul.
Soul vacuum sucking emotion
from a tear in my side.
I'm open.
I'm prepared.
Metamorphosis.
From one vacation to the next.
Dipping my fingers in
the lemon soup of putrid
angled bubbles that
flutter like ice
across my face.
The pain.
It hurts.
Fondled memory of
tragic falling,
falling,
falling,
into myself.
Leaking out.
Perspective altered.
Why stay in the room if
the fumes are chocking?
Why remain in the flame
if the fire is still burning?
Strangled.
Hopeless.
Helpless.
Begin the music and I shall
dance until my feet fall off.
