@mxmorbidmidnight / mxmorbidmidnight.tumblr.com
Thou hath heard of cannibalism as a metaphor for love, prepare thineself for cannibalism as a metaphor for CLIMATE CHANGE
an original poem about how much I love my friends, my devotion to them. sort of includes some nonhuman perspective as well. make this about romance and I will KNIT A HAMMOCK OUT OF THINE SOCKS AND EAT THE BEANS OUT OF THINE BEAN BAG THEN I WILL LICK EVERY SURFACE IN THINE FRIDGE!!!!
I now look at myself in the mirror, naked as I am
I gaze upon my pointy nose and my hooded eyes
My crooked feet, and the curve of my spine
The ribs that poke out of my sides
My hips which point outwards, and my ears which point at the sky
At my hair, brittle and greasy as it is
All this harmony, to create a creature like me
Who hunches over and puts his chest to his knees
Who barks and laughs with so much glee
but who isn't afraid to share his sorrows and complaints, with the world in which he lives
Whose bones groan and creak
Yet he continues on, step by step to catch up to his peers
And at the end of the day, he still curls up with closed eyes
And he falls asleep, with his face towards the sky
I want to engrave this poem into my soul.
Oh!!! I have just written the most wonderful poem of my life!! I adore it so much. Tis the beauty of poetry, writing something that you treasure so dearly like a jewel. I want to release it because I'm proud of it however the dragon part of my brain is saying NO ITS MINE!!! and telling me to hide it in my den. Will update when turmoil resolves itself or I resolve it, whatever comes first. Thou will likely know if I do publish it because I will be throwing it in thy face every three seconds. Continue as normal dear, as if I were never here.
*slithers away in a terrible manner*
Coiled like a spring
Livewire fingers
Fire knot in the diaphragm
Ventriloquy jaw,
Blinks rapidly.
Oh lord
Dear god…
It cannot be cured.
The walls look pale
The doctor’s voice.
The eyes in the walls
Watch me as I sleep
A fatal blow to the chest
By a tired hand.
Oh lord
Dear god…
It cannot be cured.
The blood is drawn, the verdict made
As stumbling down the steps
In a drugged haze.
To stare with your fear:
Dear god you’re an animal.
Most certainly,
It cannot be cured.
