![]() OneA Poem by Tim LionOne shrapnel flurries; worries unnamed. Head-games with mirrors, deep fears pock my skin: eyes of the night-pack from each diseased pore. I stand alone; my bones squirm beneath. Subdural monster crawls to the teeth. Spit out that venom and watch love go blind. Designed to dismember; inclined to destroy. Behind me, joy’s crumbing, bridge nips my heels. Before me, death towering, beast sniffs my fresh blood. From mud, I was formed; spit, lightning and wind. My sins; my pursuers. My gods; my desires. My smile is a chainsaw. Frame built for collapse: black synapse connected; infection complete. The torturer stands, hands pressed to my hands. I am my own vice: reflection on ice. Rekindled my Hell. I’m burning myself.
A cross built for one. I’ll ride home alone. © 2011 Tim LionFeatured Review
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5 Reviews Added on February 14, 2011 Last Updated on February 14, 2011 Author![]() Tim LionLake Worth, FLAboutSometimes, when the moon presses her naked chest to my window, and my wife is carving the value from trash scraps, I feel like I may never be able to outshine my finite timeline. And the worst part is.. more..Writing
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