No Sense, No Resolution
who stood by me the most In the muddy years of adolescence
an invisible crutch, a stretcher of magnetic preportion
may it be harmonious, or a cacophony of dissonance
the eyes salinate, the skin raises, the body with its contortion
Soon it will never be created with honesty ever again
Soon it will be destroyed with machines
my ears will begin to hemorrhage
my lips will crack and bleed
my fingers callous
my belly aches
my eyes shut
my breath
stops.
Inhale!
life begins
life returns to you
life feigns in the middle of the night
like a day sleeper with a bloody wallet
I cannot keep you in my catacombs no longer
hit the streets with new attitude and new vigor
Please, my love, breath again and refuse to give in to life's barriers.
Life has turned into night and now has turned into day
heart strings have been cut, and you have left me
Only soft whispers of pain are what is left to say
please, sister, close my door and let me be.
leather jacket, cigarette smoke, a greasy beanie from 1981
make no effort to save this broken chariot
my god, please return me my only begotten son
he has absconded to the last hotel marriot
This poem receives no resolution.
Copyright © Ingvar Thorisdottir | Year Posted 2014
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