Bret (bret191) wrote in snuffboxpoetics,
Bret
bret191
snuffboxpoetics

  • Music:
why is it that
in these dusky noired nights the
caverns of my
body
tremble--

with want.
the subtleties of this aching scarred
ventricle.
some
thing
besides a bottle to
grasp.
anything but this choking feeling when i swallow.

this
isn't
a
poem.
its putrid colored bile,
spat onto the corner of a brown grocery bag,
backed up from my acid lined throat.
and it spills into the
tips of these
forlorn fingers.
You-
i once called my sickness.
and You-
the reason for this liquid quest of a cure i pursue at all hours.
like an orphaned child who's lips constantly play
with the thought of his mother's name.
but its always been me.
this dark lazarus.
my internal memnock bereft with this lulling hatred.
for no one
and everyone
that i am.

every gesture i fake
every word i steal
even these dictionary ripped words.


its all a photocopy




I'm a god damned photocopy.
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