Best Sufferingly Poems

By Stanley Collymore

Never speak ill of the dead we’re constantly and solemnly
exhorted regardless of who they are or the life that
they freely chose to live, as they’re no longer
around, is the lame and unconvincing excuse
that’s often and dishonestly given in explanation, to rebut or
defend their...

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If I pierced your flesh
With my cannibal teeth,
Where soft moans
Vibrate
Along your
Pulsating neck,
Scented with living
Blood,
So pure
So thick
So heavy
So rich,
That one satanic sip
Would intoxicate even the most
Dead
Of us, to believe we could live.
I wonder…
I wonder…
If my unloved, mistreated, cold touch
Wandered along
Delicate wrists,
With veins
So vulnerable,
Would my thump hands,
So...

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Maybe I’m the world’s biggest fool; maybe my heart deceives my head,
Maybe I’m just paranoid; maybe I’m as dumb as you think I am.

Maybe she calls you everyday, and you whisper behind my back,
Maybe you tell her you love her still and you see her...

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