Tear me Open

The lampshade quivers 

Shadows push the walls 

Lumps seep down my voice 

Your toes twitch, head sinks 

In my heart warms a 

Throbbing emptiness 

What is there to do 

What is there to want 

In the now of things                    

 

Knotted tangles 

Tightening on themselves 

Helpless attempts, rushing 

Moths, into their end 

Eternally drawn 

No thoughts I have                     

 

Only words 

Hung in the room of 

 My being 

Wafts of fumes 

From blown off flames 

Which way out    

                          

Perhaps just rattle 

heart doors 

Till walls crumble down       

Reviews

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A walking prose, that drips the story like oil on the water, a perfect ending to a most divulged flow, well done, great read.