The Monochromatic IntellectA Poem by Ben TaylorA trickle of loneliness Shivers along my spine; The homely familiarity Relaxing me as it contracts Around my heart. The grease-stained hands of solitude Whisper as they pluck each breath Of love-ache from my lungs, Their filth encrusted nails Susurrously stealing away emotion, Replacing it with a bleak lack thereof. The blood-black burn of Estrangement lingers just beneath My skin-- A reassuring reminder that all Is as it should be. Hope, Born from the incipience of satisfaction, Defines all we live for; An absolute acquirement of Contentment would merely render one Directionless. And so, I stumble "forwards", My fear of attaining the companionship That allures me as acute as my Heart-wrenching desire for it.
© 2011 Ben TaylorAuthor's Note
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Added on April 27, 2011Last Updated on April 29, 2011 Previous Versions AuthorBen TaylorColumbia, MOAboutAlmost everything I write now is relatively real, so just read what I write and get to know me. more..Writing
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