Flowers of Madness, Flowers of Air

a poem

My problem is everything’s
still in bloom. I'm alien.
White blossoms, pink, purple, blue.
I take pictures using my eyes.

A man at the bus stop holds three
flowers by his side and pretends
not to look at me.
When I get off the bus
I notice the yellow petals
left on his empty seat.

Later, much later I open
my fist and let them fall
to the slaughterhouse floor.
 

Reviews

[Zatoichi]

profoundly beautiful, beautifully profound

[ElJays Nicholas]

OMG! Deeply profound. The slaughterhouse can mean anything, although you probably use it literally. It could mean a person's abusive home, or this chaotic world we live in. A disturbing poem, but well worth reading. You are a true talent....