Hollow and/or clawing in and outA Poem by Rylan Leif
One for emptiness
It's like sitting on a cold, hard floor
the lights are out,
and you're alone
the demons in your loins are restless.
Wolves, outside the door.
Clawing, biting, howling, barking.
You fight to keep them in,
clutching your stomach, pushing them back;
a loud tear and they leak forth, born in crimson
A wail sounds.
Fingers clawing at your stomach,
yours forcing them in?
or theirs tearing out?
A bloody dance of give and take
then a sudden occurrence of realization.
They're all one in the same.
you're still sitting on the cold, hard floor
the lights are still out
And you're still alone.
© 2012 Rylan Leif