It was thundering out that night,
violet violent streaks.
It rained fire,
when I was stuck out in those back streets.
Those bright tears of light bore down
my figure,
blackening my eyes, ears and mouth.
Letting it linger.
I let those embers get swallowed up whole,
breathing in the thickness and the smoke.
The taste of my burning core,
better than air, where everything's
bare and all I feel is sore.
~
I wanted to write a little background on this piece:
I wrote this the night my brother (Aidan) had a seizure at the house and I was really stressed (for obvious reasons) and just didn't really know how to act or who to call or what to do. I couldn't sleep or do homework and I just felt completely numb so I waited until 3 in the morning when my parents came home and went to bed. I wrote this towards the end of the night, when I was submerged in all the numbness. I don't really know if this all makes sense but I felt like I should write a background for it.
Art on the side is an etching-print I did of a photo of my brother and I when we were younger.
BINABASA MO ANG
Slip of the Tongue ~ A Collection of Poetry
Poetry"But I don't want comfort. I want poetry. I want danger. I want freedom. I want goodness. I want sin." ~Aldous Huxley