the homeless soup dog

I never wanted the soup like I thought,
just craving my own warmth
just taking myself, just talking to myself;
locating my poise.

I found it all,
melting in a cup
there is was running
I was pouring till I was poor and lacking voice.
Not enough substance left
to balance on the beam.
Not enough cells are stuck
to wipe my skin off clean.

the I heard music,

maybe a harpsichord
and possibly a flute.
wooden notes escaping
till they would swell up
then turn blue.

I felt texture,
I picked the basil from my tongue.
when I saw that innocence humming,
I figured I was done.

I blew my warmth across the spoon,
but never learned the tune.
I shot the family in my dreams,
still fought the whole way through
the passed, mouths open
spilling rage

I wasn't caught off guard,
but still scarred for days.

Reviews

[Isolophobe]

i feel weird saying what you've said to me, but i feel your writing is developing and transforming a bit as well. and it is a moment, a poem, like this that makes me delighted to know you through this site because this is beautiful. word choice is a difficult art to master but this could be used as a piece to offer tutelage in the area.

[celyn]

yes, chewy. i love it. i love your obscure metaphors and vivid imagery. always original.

[scatterbrain]

meh, i like villains better. i'm quite fond of that little poem of yours, if only it weren't so gloomy. but... i'm not sure the first perspective of this piece connects well.

oh. yeah. wax all over my keyboard. i had to take the y, u, i and o buttons off. it feels creepy typing like this, and it takes me forever. but i have to be flawless. must live up to dad's standards!!!