slain

I just don't feel myself.

I can't feel the face I see in front of me and tired of trying to care.

The question really is have I ever been, have been here before back to crawling on this cold and sticky floor.

My guts hanging on the telephone wires and the birds pecking at my core.

Like an explosion from the 4th just ringing in my ear, my f*****g heart is just slain by the last solemn tear.

And when you are faced there, faced with life and death...what f*****g death will you take because we all have that hollow cross hanging over our corpse as though it was for love's sake.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

very intense write...and the zinger is the last line...
"for love's sake" yes, we crucify ourselves for love, don't we?
j.

[AKhaus]

thank you for reading and understanding