Tuesday

Am I at one with my flesh.

Have I unintentionally severed my mind

I am telling you I don't want to exist

I ask you does that mean anything

When I was younger I would analyse all I saw

the autumn leaves would hold me close

As I have aged something has stirred,

I tread their skeletal cadavers into the dirt

The hands whom dealt deserve to be sawn 

My skin tingles as I drag the thorn

I can't evade this pathetic flesh

condemned to death by dissonance 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i am searching for my severed mind...my flesh is condemned to death....i need a reason to exist...
i have analyzed life, and don't like what i see, in it, or in me.

[Wraith.]

indeed, thank you.

[Alfred Kukitz]

Are you treading the autumn leaves into the dirt? You are able to hold the haunting throughout the poem.

[Wraith.]

Perhaps, thank you for the review.

[A. Amos]

This is interesting and mesmerizing piece, simply beautiful!

[Wraith.]

Appreciated as always.

[A. Amos]

You're most welcome my friend