Inside me lies a knotted ball,
Multiplying.
Someday soon her eyes will zap-
neurons hit a nerve-
into form.
Impulse.
They are wide
shut,
as her lustrous lips.
Me in me,
She kicks and screams
But who will hear in love’s tureen?
She plunges down the melting pot-
Drowning,
Choking,
Flailing,
with each breath.
She will not have the chance to be born.
To cry, as if to say:
Here I am, unto thee to love and scorn.
She will divide and fizzle.
Silencio!
I am speechless, man. this reads like a well-written melody...it flows like wine and jerks with the power of a horse!
ReplyDeleteI LOVE IT...
In honor of this piece of art, I have written a short poem titled Side Effects. Homage! Homage!
but dood, how do we birth the knots inside? can we ever? are they necessary for keeping a balance with stimulus form the surroundings?