Transfiguration: A Short Collection of Poems

Deteriorating

Hollowed out innards

of flesh and bones and fat,

used to be betrothed to

the conditional

and assuming words

of a Girl

2000 miles away.

These same innards now shake

As the brain casually

And repeatedly

Send messages through the flesh.

Nerve ending sensitive to the

Thoughts:

Her own self chose to make this

Happen

And your own self,

Hurt itself,

Not to hurt her.

The innards now heavy

With inattentive emotions

That no one now will hear

Once again locked in;

The mouth with seal shut and the

Vomit inducing truths will

Cement at the back of my throat

Stuck, the brain settles back into the

Dry apathetic casing

In which it found comfort

And my innards

My flesh and my bones

Will once again resemble a body

Which is me, the old me

The contradicting fact remains

The innards with sickness

with despair and longing

were more exhilarating

Than the norm.

The brain sends an idea to the nerves

Pump that heart

Feel it again.