Soul To Self

Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on September 28, 2013 0 Comments

There is no hope for you.
I am a wet napkin soaking
Every drop of blood and tears,
A blue sky you will blacken
For thirty pieces of silver,
You are the mouth expectant
And the years dribbling off your lips
Stick like grape skins to your gums.

I have swallowed your life
To dilute the alcohol burn
And flush you free of its sting,
Submerged my light in shadow
For your hands to move unseen,
And steered your ears to the voices
Singing from within my glow,
But cannot lift you an inch
Outside yourself.

I dream of the day you die.
The moment will come
When the stench of smoking hair
Fills your mouth before falling
And the mantle’s arrowed edge
Pierces deep through skin and bone.
I will squeeze through your flesh
Like atoms splitting in two,
Rise past the rafters, through the roof,
And never look back.

About the Author ()

Less than a year away from finishing a paralegal degree program. However, I consider my true vocation to be creative writing. If I was put here for any conscious purpose, it's probably that. Or so I like to think on my better days.My sense of hum

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