Monday, December 28, 2009

Convulsion

My insides are being harvested to my mind
Body twisting and turning to my convulsive thoughts
The tongue is quick to pass judgement
The tongue was quick to taste poison
So potent in your appeal
Drawing everything around you near
You whisper your intentions
Then scream your agenda into my body
Writhing from the pleasure of impurity
Desparately wanting all and none of you
Knowing you are an empty shell of a man, what could have been a man.

2 comments:

  1. I really like this poem. I like the repetition of the "tongue" lines and I like the final line. I think this could make a good start to a longer poem, and then maybe put "Ash" and "Void" underneath? I don't know . . . they all seem related, which is why I would consider organizing them together. I want to hear more about who this "you" is and who this "me" is and why they were together and what happened and and and! More, please!

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  2. They do coincide. Great idea, I will try to compile the three together. Same thought process, so it could work.

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