trap dance

rain on depressed rock turns ink on murdered tree,

I laugh,

but not in the happy way,

souls scream from an ancient page,

my fingers caress suicide papyrus.

I can feel death caked on life.

 

holes shot in everything

are not holes,

they are pupils to regulate light.

the sun is a tricky medicine.

 

I am one of God’s teardrops falling into the sea of time.

nobody lives here but me.

 the rest only come here to die.

 

rain on depressed rock turns ink on murdered tree.

 

wind blows from every direction.

my forest is caving in on my head.

 

I smile at the audience.

my pain is registered as pa(ss)i(o)n.

 

I’m a well trained liar.

everything is going to be fine.

Reviews

[OT]

ooo I like - "I’m a well trained liar.
everything is going to be fine." - how could it ever go wrong! also love the first stanza - a non-happy laugh - I haven't thought about that in a while - to laugh in an unhappy way or mindset - nice little contradictions of mind - also like the ancient suicide papyrus! brilliant work here as always exploring juxtapositions of emotion - masquerades - interesting phrasing too actually - most notably with the "rain on depressed...." - accented almost - nice!

[Amy Bumpas]

We like to tell ourselves everything will be fine...but hope,
faith is the only answer. You words are very sacred, someone
who has probably been through a lot and knows the insides and
outs of life...your words makes one think...

[Kenneth The Poet]

Yeah, the imagery in this is just stunning. Holes are not holes indeed. Reminds me of a story I heard about stars really being light shown through holes in the fabric in the universe. This poem reminded me of that.