Join for FREE | Take the Tour Lost Password?
Shop deviantART for the
holidays and save BIG!
Click here! :holly:
[x]

deviantART

:deviation:
 


Every afternoon, for twelve minutes
they open your door.
Perhaps, in
the bass-less talk of the lounge set,
all do speak to you- being

the chosen
crucified on a mattress,
the grit of a cement floor
scattering your sweat

like broken veins, to
the drain you’d rather pee in
than pass pinching, knocking for the guards.

I dreamt you were a spider leg
dancing to death, pinned &
straitening like a snake in a bag,

the nurses huddled, mindless to the spider
folding in a crevice seven legs wide.
©2009 ~littlesthobo
:iconlittlesthobo:

Author's Comments

..

Comments


love 0 0 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconalecbell:
Grim images. Such lonely suffering, in such non-commital language, as though the speaker needed the distance in his words.

--
There's always a better poem just out of reach.

Words create situations [link]

The roots of the future run deep [link]
:iconbackuppanic:
"like broken veins, to
the drain you’d rather pee in
than pass pinching, knocking for the guards."/

:worship:


--
If God isn't dead, then I'll kill him myself.
:iconlittlesthobo:
thanks

--
kindness is still hip.
:iconlittlesthobo:
: )

--
kindness is still hip.
:iconlittlesthobo:
heh, thanks.

--
kindness is still hip.
:iconalecbell:
Most welcome.

--
There's always a better poem just out of reach.

Words create situations [link]

The roots of the future run deep [link]

Details

October 5
694 bytes

Statistics

7
7 [who?]
53 (0 today)
1 (0 today)

Share

Link
Thumb

Site Map