Friday, July 11, 2014

The Woe I Know



Brain is dead
heart is bled
heavy chest
interrupted breaths
grave moments
crashing sobs
temples throb
bodily torture
wax-paper wipes
comfortless needs
paintbrush umbrella
wrestling pillows
writhing limbs
screams inside
loud as red
hands tick and tremor
long and never
pitiful depths
of mire.

Gasping breaths
morose prose
muffled in suffocation
lingers in lobes
furious white flashes
deep in green monster caverns
incinerating ideas chanting
noxious notes swim
in flooded leaden sorrow
                                                             evaporated into tomorrow.

Painting Oil on canvas by Belmiro de Almeida 1858-1935[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

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