The Demons I Can't Write AboutA Poem by Travis Gibson (poetic heroics)If only my past, were so easily left behind as the concept implies.
staring from the depths
that only I see, doggedly calling to me in voices only I hear an exhausted spirit bargains with shadowed demons to stay hidden from familiar sight, festering on tucked away yesterdays and they comply... what then is the cost of a soul in suffering, when shrouded in borrowed felicity as the monstrous voices dim poetic hands break for freedom; blue lines streaked on white where ink roams exempt of onus how easily a writer forgets the etchings of our art (feverish pen strokes on paper) echo to our very depths tortured ink stained hands, chafe a dark pact with each stroke fly ridden yesterdays lose flavor the present, much too tasty to resist so, they come for me; per contract: hungry and remorseless ascending grooves and foot holes they, or I could never forget I'm found (like lightening to ground) hunched over a worn notebook they sink claws into my back, screams (theirs and mine) deafen thought halted pen strokes signal defeat they stand, glaring at ebbing courage backwater dealings are reestablished they comply, and I... stop writing © 2014 Travis Gibson (poetic heroics)Author's Note
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StatsAuthorTravis Gibson (poetic heroics)Oblivion's edge, OHAboutBeen here for some time... My work is my life. Read and I hope you enjoy. I will return the sentiment. more..Writing
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