Mark Matthews Poet Bio

Gnawing On My Mind

Writing,
throwing out compulsion,
licking the marrow from the bone,
watching the herd,
          looking for the weak,
waiting,
               minutes seem like years,
lasting torment
          so wanted,
                              so welcome.

Teeth gnashing
       I tear a hunk of flesh
from the curr I am feasting on.
Unconsciously
                I smack my lips,
as I gnaw
                seditiously
    on the tasty morsel.
Using blood as ink
           I scribe senseless thoughts
on the walls and ceiling,
scoring rifts
          that tear the fabric of time,
stopping the irksome pain
       pouring from this hole
                                    in my chest.

Fingering the edge
         I re minis
              of the fun it was 
                             getting this,
definitely to be worn
    as a medal of honor.

Now that I am 
              back to normal,
my quill flows freely,
      scarring the earth
beneath my heels.

I'll let this hole rot,
           fester,
                ooze,
gather infection
     that i can spread
at my own whim,
locking the world in my grasp,
         turning it
             a beautiful grey,
cascading across the environment
   like a mist.

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