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Hey
In case I never write another poem again,
here's what I've been thinking
I've had a rough time wrestling
with the rigid grooves inside
my red hard, head -
heading nowhere really,
getting no place clearly,
drearily coming to a head -
where spine meets brain
and runs its creviced terrain
it spent too many hours of my life
building.
Beautiful though, isn't it?
All of it keeping life running -
lungs breathing,
heart beating,
cells feeding
on the energy it never wastes.
Wasteful to waste such a masterful design
isn't it?
A little tasteless.
Wouldn't it be
tragic
to leave this life behind -
an existence no mind can hide,
but mine cannot imagine,
stuck in the sulci canyons
I created nine years ago.
We don't talk about nine years ago,
me and my sulking sulci posse,
not about the days
when he-who-shall-not-be-named
sent the grim reaper out to play with my heart.
Yeah, let that sit in for a second.
Every heart knows what that feels like.
Guess mine couldn't take the strike,
the jab,
the stab in the back
to a heart ripe with frozen spite,
full of incredible credible lies
despite all the wisdom
rightful guided advice could bring
my psyche took a dive,
right into the fragmented canyons
where this all started.
Pardon my honesty.
I suppose all this confused pain
inside of me needs somewhere to go -
a home if you will -
somewhere to belong.
Isn't that what we all want,
after all?
Copyright ©
Rebecca Kiser
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