God,

God,
My mind is a squaking bird
That wakes over
And over
To take control of me.

Little pill,
Oh pink
and Opaque,
Oblong and
Shaking in my palm
Don't smile at me
To send forth your disease
I am weak
Then weaker,
Then strong.

Swaddle me, well
And cut off my hands
I need no way
To pull in desire.

Dust me with sugar
Before the fifth course
Consume me slowly
I'm meant to grow cold.

Move down my eyes
Make it harder to see
All the babbles of ghosts
That are dancing in me

Reviews

[Aimee Mahathy]

Wow, I must say that the particular phrase "I am weak
Then weaker,
Then strong." struck me heavily. It echoes such truth, it's like a slap to the face. But one that I love.
And the final stanza was exquisite! The random occurrence of rhyme, it was so natural!
The whole thing seemed to carry a very dark an ominous hue. And in it was a touch of contentment. Like, the speaker was at peace with the darkness and accepted it... and might even delight in it.
This is amazing~

[three]

i love the delirious indifference present in the poem. it creates the image of a person that has been through everything and numb to all pain. the poem makes for a mesmerizing read, I really enjoyed the final three stanzas. thanks

[D.R. Wilsey Jr.]

Again. An incredible way with words and images. I can see that I will thoroughly enjoy your writing and I look forward to reading more of it.

[Jeannie Wilder]

This is a haunting beauty. You have a wonderful way with words.

[Isolophobe]

I too can really see /hear this being a song. Needless to say, your diction is top notch once more. Its really amazing to see the things you write, I'm glad I have that privilege.

[elephant]

I really can relate to this one.The last stanza is magnificant.I can hear this as a song.