In the lonely hours I dream of nothing but
Shadows creeping up behind me,
Manifestations of all my own psychological horrors
That seed and spawn inside my head;
Fear, loss, greed, sloth, lust-
I'm guilty as charged.
The manacled wrist of my mother waving this world
Good bye as she slips into a destination
I have no ticket to.
The bruised handed wings imprinted on my shoulder blades
As a demon screams whore into the dirt where I lay
Where it spits in my face and cuts a scar into my cheek.
I remember that day like it were yesterday.
A little princess in virgin white lace, nymph-like,
Drifting through life in a cotton-bud daydream
The apple of his eye.
Myself standing at that window like Jesus, arms raised
Looking at the world through angry tears of embarrassment
And realising that the world itself is not a cruel place-
Only the people that inhabit it.
YOU ARE READING
Black Coffee
Poezie"Normality is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly"- Anon. In life we tenderly bloom, slowly shrivel and then die like flowers. This small collection of poetry reveals human emotion from a number of different perspectives...
