Dirty Water

Sitting alone in the dark

Falling to sleep

Counting bruises rather than sheep

Following the little red scars on my heart

Like my nail is a needle stitching a figure

All the while

The well in my chest has suffered a drought

Too many times I have raised a bucket

Heavy and overflowing and brought

Far above to the chapped lips of a monster of muck, it

Drinks, and drinks

Trying hard to cleanse the dirt from itself 

While I am drying up 

Until I am running on empty, and

The monster remains the same

Then again,

I am sitting alone in the dark

Falling to sleep

Counting bruises rather than sheep

Tracing the new additions like a mortician sutures a corpse

...and...

The well is full once more

After waking and screaming and gasping and clutching 

Chest burning as the water works start 

Mascara spreading black under my eyes

Dripping down and plopping by my feet

Puddles of Dirty Ink

Until I can go by my day 

Feeling like I am dying of thirst

...and all dried up

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

Very descriptive piece, full of vivid imagery. The speaker sounds like one dealing with depression. I hope it is not autobiographical.

[wolfie]

Nope, not autobiographical. These types of pieces are usually inspired by books or movies that move me.