...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NcXsK_u4ixI&ab_channel=TheCurrent

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I remember what it was like,

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Lord, as though I could almost forget:

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I remember the state

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Of a first floor, basement apartment -

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In some s****y building,

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In a s****y corner

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Of some s****y street,

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Hidden within a bustling city

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That’d been bursting with anonymity.

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I remember broken glass,

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Footprints left

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In master-strokes of laden crimson,

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Cigarette butts, 

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Paper towers, ash,

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Pain, fear,

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Rage.

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I was so broken;

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It was as though there was nothing left.

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And I found myself,

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After months, like that,

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Wrapped up in an invisible telephone wire,

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Coiled, into an intangible tangle

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That had

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Upended itself

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Beside the bottom-feeding placement, of the bed.

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I remember what that was like,

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Lord, as though I could almost forget:

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Sitting, wrapped up in a telephone wire

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And shattered,

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Beside the ripped, double-spread featurette 

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That’d by then, been left 

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As the remnants of what had once been

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The shelter, of a bed.

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Author's Note

2-7-7-2-7-4-4

(fiction)

Reviews

[Jacky Boy]

Love the imagery in the 2nd Stanza. It combines well with the pacing to create a blistering array of quick vital images that bring me into the poem like I've been dragged over that bloody broken glass.
Beautiful choice of words that, "master-strokes of laden crimson,".

[Ookpik]

Haha! Hey, thank you man - that's quite the artistically worded review as well

Welcome to the site Jacky!

-Ook