Litkicks Message Board Archive

take my sanity while your at it

Posted to Action Poetry




what becomes of hair
does it show we care
you could have the ends
of the failed beauty that taunted my reflection
into roots stemming from the dark twisted, core
always in motion, growing and stretching
from knowledge, and dementia of knowing
the roots lie on the shelf
in a jealous rage, of death
years of stress turned it into twine
that you bounded me to the bed post with
and the slithering snakes that crossed your back
and wrapped around your body
until you were covered.
you could have it, all
stay in the wild cacoon that protects your subtle maddness
from escaping its core.