The Stain of Thought On the Body
Thought-bone reaches
For the measuring tape-
scribbling a plan to escape
Low and Behold!
The unchecked corners of morass
Have globbed my throat with glass
So as thought goes to consecrate,
I must wait, passion coiled
Soon, the primate strand articulates-
I'm lost in boiling black water,
Exotic affairs reappear
Spleen is churning
As I beat out towards the street
Quads burning, chest brazen
A deeper level still-
Primeaval insurgency
Inflames all reason and doubt
Then, as breath returns to itself
Thought regains composure
Pondering, planning, scheming
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
