Poor Ill Child Read Count : 51

Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Your cracked lips fall onto my chest as I cry the names of past burdens laid upon my presence. Your dehydration of attention I wouldn’t give you, grinds your bones together as if tissue and joints didn’t exist. It seems as if the following days thrown directly at your brain haven’t exactly sunk into your blank thought process. I hear you repeat my name as your windpipe merges into your eye sockets and your wrists are slit with photographs of my mouth. Shut. Not a real tear has slipped through my duct until the evening I realized I had to pay for your sins. I have flashbacks. Dear poetic demon who slipped a sleeping pill into my hour glass of self-value.  I adore you, for odd certainty I can’t forget about you. Reckon my god forbidden self-control. Your gory temptation, unveils my inner curiosity of how the world really operates. as I’m walking through the shadows of your destination, the plan for you reveals that on one ordinary day, your life will come to an end. Sleep tight monster. Footsteps rage from aching memories as they glide across my forehead from every second you wasted my time. If you bled out, I would float on my back through your bloodstream and I would create an innertube of will. May your mouth still speak but your eyes fall out. Your body construct an orchestrated momentum into a wall of regret. They can’t save you. They won’t be there. Obsession. Dirt pours from your gums as you open your jaws, because the only words you speak are of no worth. Sex deprived, obese brain of shocking despair. I am, laughing at you. You are a liar. Poor ill child.


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  • Jan 14, 2019

  • Jan 21, 2019

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