When I Fall Asleep That's Where At Least My Feet Stumble Over Read Count : 48

Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

I've found a mysterious Box, after i washed up here, dehydrated and sun-burnt

on Golden Sand, each corn, a star that has fallen from space, seemingly.

The water itself, bruised, bleeding, charred and vomit-stained

An ethereal island, riding on the sea of infinite possibilities.

There can't be a key underneath, what's breeding under the stars

is greeting me with an stretched emptiness.

How strange, my finger feels more and more boneless

this idea sounds so absurd, but i put faith

in some ''schizophrenic'' beliefs.

My finger turns crimson, smelling like blood

as i twist it in the sharp biting keyhole

some attempts pass,

and minutes hang dead with ropes around Necks

and the razorblades, still clinging on to their slit wrists.

The lid of the box loosens its possessive grip

and old, familiar treasures which left at a young age

appear in the recorders of my eyes.

Sadly they're everything else but glistening, shiny and rich.

Their Skin is old, wrinkled and grey, lined with blue veins.

Dust instead of spit, they drool, and it slides down their sore adam apples, slow.

Eyes, a pool of rotten jelly and Sour Soup.

The organs and the drying blood, shimmer through thin poltergeist-skin.

Fragile bones, protruding and piercing, that's what tree-branches do.

My Motivation is these Grotesque babies

Lack of light and Introvertism, fright of the World, turned them into Gargoyles.

Or was it, that i was used up by the World and its teenagers and children?

I guess i'll never spread my arms open wide again

my chest is cut and wounded enough by knives they sneaked out,

as my head laid caring and protecting on theirs, blind by naive trust.


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