The Razor and the Wrist

Posted: March 19, 2015 in Poetry

Things wake up in the brain,

Stirring old, long settled dust,

A quick, blinding flash of pain,

As the monster shakes off its rust…

It beings to devour everything in sight,

Just like it’s always done,

Familiarity made warm in a splash of blood,

‘Hey,’ it whispers, ‘wanna have some fun?’

No, no I don’t, and I’m not playing again,

You can set up all the streamers and poles,

But I won’t be circling them once again,

No matter what you think you might know…

‘I’m too old to play this game,’

Says the razor to the wrist,

‘I lost long ago when you found out my name,

When I got fucked without getting kissed…’

The rabbit in the gristle cage,

Doesn’t know what day it is,

Or even its own manufactured age,

It only knows the endless race…

The bottle will shake before it falls from the hand,

As the clockwork joints release their vaporous scream,

Don’t try to pretend you weren’t warned,

Emptied out eyes aren’t always what they seem…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s