The fluttering in my stomach
Ignites the pain in my chest
As a gunshot with silver pellets
Fragments of the moon
tucked in my lungs, and in my heart
Sometimes grinding my liver and teeth
In a fit of lunar epilepsy
See: I am a flower before I burst to flames
Or am I the flames forged to flower
I think I am just calling myself names
Thirsting for a call
the drought gave my segmented lips
the shape and taste of crave
The crave for someone to love
someone to kiss at the end of this line
And I just push down the urge
Now, the Kraken is out
I get drunk on ink, and I write with blood
Sometimes I sit with the wounds I created
And sometimes I just sit and let the ink bleeds the wounds
With my own narrator
O! my narrator, so unreliable and dark
Stretching in front of a mirror
Facing all my insecurities
Stretching a little bit of truth
Mind seeking a wall to grope its way out of this reality
Do I have the guts to burn all of my entrails?
(Me) seeking appreciation
From who? and why?
In this self-immolation of senses
I don’t know if I am man enough
To take good care of my roses
In this odyssey I shall embark
Mind, You aimless wanderer
Am I living to the same level of my poems?
Or am I living under a rock?
The poet is led to the hanging
The poet bears his poems, and the noose
Spectators cheering for the execution
While I separate the wheat from chaff
The revolver is loaded with moonlight, and sunlight
The moon is my gun, as well as the sun.
Powerfully penned, M.E. Into the book it belongs! Felt these words my friend, nicely done. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you Damian! Highly appreciated!
Okay, it sounds like it may be time for you to have a little fun – get on a roller coaster with shorts and no underwear, maybe ask that girl out you met at the coffee shop. Hey, if I was next door… ya know. No burning entrails.
Thank you, DK! Your comments work magic! “)
If you are the magician, you have the power to bend and reshape this reality. You live the life of a poet. But what type of poet are you? Nice spill.
Nah, I am not a magician. But I am a voulanteer to your show. You are the magician. Hahaha. Thank you for your kind comment! “)
Wicked words that equal a kickass write. Great!
Thank you, Brother! It means a lot “)
Holy hell…
Onto the list you go.
Daily fix – check.
Thank you, Adira! “)
This is raw and honest, while still deliberate.
This is some very good poetry.
Thank you, Surprise_Guest! I appreciate it! “)
Powerful and raw. Great work.
Thank you, Thomas! “)