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.