As knives stretch from your fingertips,
the boiler’s hiss, the darkness drips,
but young men’s fears aren’t mine to take.
Could I please die before I wake?
I understand you didn’t need
young teens who only wish to breed.
I’d kill them too. I’ve lost that ache.
Could I please die before I wake?
Each day I sit in asphalt haze,
a brake light death of small delays.
Of this communion I partake.
Could I please die before I wake?
The miles form a metronome
of cell phone calls and shining chrome,
a slow decay with each mistake.
Could I please die before I wake?
From empty cube, to empty room,
the jasmine scent of stale perfume,
a window blackened now, opaque.
Could I please die before I wake?
(well, here's one of my first form poems: tear apart at will
) I meant to post this in the practice thread. I accidently made it it's own thread).
Edit: L19 (incorporated Leanne's recommendation for a more clear phrasing) thanks.
the boiler’s hiss, the darkness drips,
but young men’s fears aren’t mine to take.
Could I please die before I wake?
I understand you didn’t need
young teens who only wish to breed.
I’d kill them too. I’ve lost that ache.
Could I please die before I wake?
Each day I sit in asphalt haze,
a brake light death of small delays.
Of this communion I partake.
Could I please die before I wake?
The miles form a metronome
of cell phone calls and shining chrome,
a slow decay with each mistake.
Could I please die before I wake?
From empty cube, to empty room,
the jasmine scent of stale perfume,
a window blackened now, opaque.
Could I please die before I wake?
(well, here's one of my first form poems: tear apart at will
) I meant to post this in the practice thread. I accidently made it it's own thread).Edit: L19 (incorporated Leanne's recommendation for a more clear phrasing) thanks.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson