Learning

Learning

 

New wristwatch insists it’s 2pm,

but red eyes are stuck

dead on midnight.

 

Decaying on some sunny wasteland drunk,

my buddy points out these beautiful girls,

who, to me, look like burning graveyards.

 

Wrote this poem with bloody grass stains

on a backdrop of sickly pale denim.

Each line snapped bones of reality’s grip

until I woke up, flat, on page-bottom.

 

Pile up shadows of long-murdered loves;

something soft on which razored thoughts may expire.

 

Try to remember lesser catastrophes;

dig for a biohazard with fewer rusty needles.

 

But, now, all alone, in this dark room,

I wish I’d just apologized and gone to sleep.

 

Your side of the bed is filled with venomous snakes

and broken glass.

 

Truth rots with charred roaches

and defiled apple cores on the dusty nightstand.

 

I’m learning to die alone.

Reviews

[Tommy]

You take descriptions and give them raw and hard core. I have to say I’m with Kerry, that third stanza, Wow! That one crept through me like lead poisoning, it was felt…

Great Write!
RLG,
Tommy

[ScaryTrees]

liked the other one so much i read another

Your side of the bed is filled with venomous snakes
and broken glass.

I know that feeling
I guess if we all die alone anyway, we may as well get the practice

another good read

[Kerry O'Connor]

Wrote this poem with bloody grass stains
on a backdrop of sickly pale denim... Isn't this how all poetry should be written? How else will the modern poet fully grasp the great and painful moments that define the human adventure?
Great piece, RG

[Ed Hart]

long walks by the sea...lots of tears