Lend to me distractions.
Paralyze each cord binding my heart to my mind.
Jut an ambitious razor against the tenderest spot
and pluck that burdensome compassion
off the crook of my spine.
Lend to me self destruction.
Infuse gases into my lungs that I may breathe
as vengeful dragons do among shell casings,
and as the wounded do when grinding their heads
beneath the sheets.
Lend to me isolation.
Hump backed on a bar stool, possessed by liquors trance.
Or provoking vomit to spray from my throat into a toilet;
because of all the things I deserve for my wrongs,
the last is a fighting chance.
-Written July 6, 2018 10:54PM
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Fun Fact: I honestly cant recall why I wrote this poem beside having the first line in my head and wanting to create something from it. In other words this is a completely spontaneous poem. The point of it is to focus on the broken people in this world (not all but some) and say that is more normal to have than a second chance or support.
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The Palace of Versailles | A Poetic Disaster
PoetryA book of poetry derived from current events and my former Allpoetry account with the pen name: Versailles. Also includes explanations. Poetry written by: Tomah Monk Cover by: Tomah Monk
