[untitled]

There's something about the vortex
Beneath the cortex;
Cover it up and soak it in with a Kotex.

That's my dialect,
The usual sect of words erect
Reflect my thoughts on you.
Porous language with emotions seeping through:

"How do you do?"

Too taboo to say "I love you."
"Hate you."
"Didn't want to date you."

Woe is me.
And you.
And anyone that wants to.

Turn you into
Wood that I could break
You into a million pieces of particles,
Articles of the outdated periodicals,
That is US weakly.

Wish that I could cut the follicle,
Dilute the molecules
And turn you into the dust
That trails behind me.

I cannot help your helplessness
And holding on
Has turned me off.
I cough.
Sneeze.
Anything to please the senses
And expel,
Hard as hell,
Whatever part of you was inside of me.

Reviews

[[untitled]]

Wonderful. I really enjoyed this, even had a good chuckle at the first stanza. But I also was able to sense the pain beneath the words, the real bitterness, the agony even. That's a hard balancing act!

I look forward to reading more soon!

:--)