slash

You
only wield butcher knives
under your legs
and belly dance,
rolling like the ceiling which
eagerly swarms in on itself,
a horde of moving bumps
flowing into the clouds.
Up there, you see fields of
corn in golden rows,
kid goats nipping at tails,
ink-stained pyramids and ashes,
nodding into the sea,
groveling where the wisps of
goblin waves never cease,
oh, the monsters are endless!
Drown, before the moon pulls the water back,
miring
you into its hidden parts.
Drown, while the gods toast your demise
assisting you with their raindrop goblets,
reeling sharks from the sea and
languidly sailing them through
inebriated air during the
night, like flopping asteroids or
gyrating paper airplanes that bite.

35 Comments

  1. I’d like to leave a superb comment, but quite frankly, I’m speechless. Chalk it up to the anti-depressants lol.

      1. It’s nice that you know the feeling lol. But doesn’t it ever make you want to stop relying on them? I wish I didn’t.

          1. Well it is great to see you made it out with your sanity intact; And an endlessly creative mind to boot. Sorry if I brought up some negative emotions though. It wasn’t my intentions.

              1. I understand. I guess we are all insane in our own way. Some are just accepted as “normal” by today’s society.

  2. This was powerful stuff to read through. Your application of half spring-rhythm and cutting lines off works well to bring the reader a feel of rhythmical completion. Great stuff.

Love you, too

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