+ D e a t h C r y +

This is the rewrite of a poem I ended my last writing streak with. I felt like it needed to be polished to match who I am now.

Scarlet blues and lime green violet hues stain my sight,

disorienting the nebula of my mind,

scarring the landscape of my heart.

Muted pleas stretch across the distance,

but no; no, they’re silent.

 

You won’t come.

 

Gouges mar what once was pristine,

and the scratching of my claws echoes in my mind

as I paint rosy red portraits.

Drip, drip, blood leaks from my fingertips,

their ravaged ends telling a tale of desperation.

 

A tale of imprisonment in my own head.

 

Distress froths in my veins,

overflowing in distressful distaste;

distaste at the way my eyes skitter, skitter, skitter

from corner to corner,

like the beaten and wounded animal I am.

 

I’m choking on my own rabies induced foam.

 

Terror drifts in waves from my pock marked skin,

permeating the air, filling it with that retched stench.

The stench of panicked flesh, trembling bones,

Welling beneath the surface, waiting;

waiting and coiling with tension like a spring.

 

It will destroy everything when it is unleashed.

The lacerations in my mouth sting,

like the prickling of thorny knowledge

that I’m done.

There’s a briny taste of tears

soaking into the crevices of my mouth.

 

Where’s my prince charming? Oh, he’s dead.

 

But, oh wait, you know this since you can touch my heart.

That heart that lays dead on the floor,

surrounded by the ice you thawed, with a burning sword.

A sword carved from words and voice

that stole the very thunderous life from my blood.

 

You sapped the scarlet that gave me life.

 

Glazed azure marble eyes stare without fear,

ruby red lips no longer mouth muted pleas,

the tarnished walls begin to fade,

numbness begins to settle as the pain sneaks away.

The silence is almost unbearable.

 

Now can you hear the silence of my death?

Author's Note

It's been over three years since the last time I wrote poetry so I felt this old poem of mine that I ended my last spurt with needed a rewrite. Think of it as a welcome back to writing exercise if you will. :)