Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
The blade and not the body
The scarlet rain
Falls from slit kisses
On my wrists.
In the background,
A singing sparrow
Shatters the sky
With its cries from hell.
I hear only the
Whispering wind, and my
Eyes fill with sleep.
My smoke-filled lungs
Shut down and I stare
At the cotton candy clouds
And dream of the day
Where I can be a kid again.
My darkest shadow,
My deepest secret laced with
The kind of poison
That only truth can give out,
Puts me into a comatose state
Where I invent talking trees
And swear I can fly.
My tongue is sharp as nails,
Budding branches of wisdom
In the foreground,
I sometimes swear I was never
Here at all;
I sometimes swear that I'm
The blade and not the body.
3-18-10
Falls from slit kisses
On my wrists.
In the background,
A singing sparrow
Shatters the sky
With its cries from hell.
I hear only the
Whispering wind, and my
Eyes fill with sleep.
My smoke-filled lungs
Shut down and I stare
At the cotton candy clouds
And dream of the day
Where I can be a kid again.
My darkest shadow,
My deepest secret laced with
The kind of poison
That only truth can give out,
Puts me into a comatose state
Where I invent talking trees
And swear I can fly.
My tongue is sharp as nails,
Budding branches of wisdom
In the foreground,
I sometimes swear I was never
Here at all;
I sometimes swear that I'm
The blade and not the body.
3-18-10
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
The blade and not the body
The blade and not the body