Muzzle, nuzzling moist,
emitting light
Unto a flashpoint, a
halo torn, ripped
Away from whence were
born. Siren’s
Flare, deafening
stare, a shadow cries
From deep nowhere,
eclipsing pathos
Upon steins well
poured, as the sated
Lay bloat till morn. Grazed,
snipped—tongue
tipped, teeth gripped,
glazed eyes, rolled back in.
Ordeals only remain
when remembered as real, and all
The mares at night,
forever shall, ride away as
Dawn ascends upon,
this, a pasture of the flesh.
Rainfall scatters as
dense brush peaks, turning silent
As blind thoughts
reap, tricking, tracking, the mind to
Play, with those fears
you’ve saved away, for times
When only
self-loathing will do, the trick to reinforce
How much you hate what
lives in you.
Repaint the
partitions. Anoint the buried wood. Remove the
Stains and all else
that never should, live another hour that
Instills the reinforcing of
any remaining shards of pain.
As adults we are the product of our childhood. It can take many years of self analysis to discover all of the 'why's this happened and why that happened and unless we learn from it all we just repeat the same cycle. This is hard hitting in its raw truth, depth of pain and passion. Not easy to open up and let the pain out and this tells how difficult it is.
ReplyDeleteGreat writing Fred.
i really like that last stanza because it is practical and a clal not to get stuck there but clean out those places so they dont fester...
ReplyDeleteWow! This is some powerful writing, Fred! Very deep and yet vague, leaving the reader wondering what's really going on in this brooding piece.
ReplyDeleteExcellent write!
In intense look into the phenomenon of self-loathing, with exceptionally clear and specific diction and imagery.
ReplyDeleteYeah ones self can be a good judge or bad, all depends on the nudge. Must get off our high horse and see how we can make things better at our sea.
ReplyDelete