Jump-Start

When I can wrap my taste buds around words,

Maybe, words like these,

I am humbled in the presence of what MUST be

Poetry.

Look away, If you want,

As poetry surgically implants yin and yang

Into the aqueduct of my heart.

Profoundly herding me into the path of a swung dagger.

Love is the wound...

And I am pouring cinnamon and vanilla,

This... Camouflage of bitter flavours to come

Of Legions...

Cruel Enigma...

Gouging my eyes,

Peeling back my lips to expose jagged teeth,

That are shattered,

So Love's hand reaches down my throat,

Touches something internal

And squeezes it...

Jump-starting my soul.

I awake to the embrace of a bullet.

Reviews

[Emily B]

this is the you that I found on these pages so long ago . . . sometimes your words wander . . . they form differently

but this, is the stuff of life so powerful that it spares us not at all, no cute little rhyming poems here, and I am glad for it