Cauliflower GriefA Poem by Foxemerald![]() Bits and pieces of my thoughts and feelings over the past few weeks.![]()
My face rolled into disgust and pain
His face a tomato red. ‘May god strike me dead’ he says The bubble I am in, too hard to break This life that I have led, these thoughts That go around in my head- So stupid I can’t really even Begin to understand them. Is there an easy way to end it? Can I just go home, to cry, to bed? I’m calling for someone to come And take me away on a white horse- Defeated, ‘Help me survive until the next day, Lord, help me to overcome the pain. Water is running between my legs, I shower and Try to relax. The argument is being washed back Into the crevices of time. Sigh . . . Lack of insight Is all I can think it can Provide me. Broken lines of barren, wasted, frozen words, Floating into the air like Blocks of chunky, moldy cheese curds. When he looks at me he sees a Globulous piece of flesh, not the tired, careworn Hands full of rough, labored woman carried by Those rough demands. A person who’s done so much to help protect the love that’s being torn asunder, by the Lies that are under the Covers. I walk along the Fort Pitt bridge Memories coming back to assault- Me. The smell of vinegar in the bath People with funny eyebrows, Advil, scattered along the Rug, bottles that are broken into life, coming back to me like broken pieces, bits of toilet paper from a Roll that’s not created even. A film that’s without vision. Nothing but a sordid track Of Random images . . . in my dread, that flash their gleaming , solid orbits, Their winking, friendly type of eyes, shining out from Little ghostly bodies. Happy and familiar, wispy hands And misty silhouettes, calling out to me with Childish innocence, which has . . . Made a friend. And then they turn . . demonic. Thoughts and feelings, now becoming Satan’s cronies. The faces and the arms, entangling themselves, until there is Nothing but an empty, black hole in timeless . . . nothingness. It comes closer and closer to me, until it Swallows up my brain. There is nothing but silence, A dark, and oh so hateful quiet. I continue to walk And talk to myself, moving in circles, not going either Forwards nor back. On the outside I must Look a fright, as traffic on the bridge Should pass beside. Behind the safety of the Rising metal divide, holding up the bridge and keeping me from danger, I am locked inside of a Black hole, that no one else can man, where I must Hide myself away, and life is so much more A needle in the hay. I can feel the lines in my face, when they begin To drop, the bubble of life oozing out beneath my woebegone distaste. The health and vital beat The beauty of the past, the world of future’s magic falling to the ground below me like A disconnected strand. Back to present, and rejecting the love that gave me purchase. The feeling of cold, decisive madness, leaks into the air between- Up, and around, and out . . Between the lines of Lover’s hate. I want to reach out for a hug and close the distance But I stop myself, a foot away from his embrace, and then envelop myself in a blanket of my own, and just admission, trying to comfort my soul, In the quiet omission, of what was Taken, after he opened my heart and stole its living beat, leaving there inside an empty heat. Bits and pieces of my past Returning, with the arrival of a song That flows, from out my lips and into the tender night, the ghost of a love that is but Lost in time. Over the hills and cattle Wild, wind running through my hair as I lean, my head against the misted window. I start to sing a song of long forgotten passion, my eyes catching on the reflection Of the quiet, silver moon. I feel my soul reach towards it, my inner person ache- To kiss the vortex. Right out of the misted window pane. And then my hooded eyes look down upon what Seems to be a dying soul. Is it . . . mine- ? I can’t seem to think, and my Hands are shaking with a torrential wave of deep emotion underway. I am completely, utterly alone, broken, sad and prone, Petrified with icy cold. I am rooted to the spot I cannot move- I steel myself for battle, Underneath a glowing, mountain halo. Square my shoulders, and tell myself to sit And bear the coming battle. A fight that no one else can See, is rising from the skyline . . . After me. Cauliflower grief What’s going on in my head? No one else can seem to understand A big head of cauliflower gets in the way . . . So many different angles. So many different sides. Thoughts, thoughts, and feelings that bloom out like little clouds of nothing, and break away, at the chunky Middle I turn away from him, as the tears begin to fall. Caught within the blooming structure, of the Labyrinth of cauliflower. Can my lover and forever Partner, learn to be the person that Comes to save, instead of one that strikes the flame To a madness, that lets the fire in me Rage? © 2023 Foxemerald |
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Added on September 29, 2023 Last Updated on October 1, 2023 Author![]() FoxemeraldMIAboutHi, So, I see you’ve found me. Since the excitement and mystery of being the ‘anonymous writer’ has been shorn, let me tell you a little more about myself. I graduate with a Bache.. more..Writing
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