Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Deconstructing in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
I am a beast
Who does not dance
Upon graceful feet.
In disdain do I
Growl as the well
Defined dragons of
My generation flit
And fly wherever
Their heart desires.
I'm stuck in a pit.
This devil is delayed,
Busy demonstrating
Fairness but not
Partaking in it.
Shaky hands design
Flesh flaws and I
Am ugly once more.
I dig to disappear
And find myself more
Found that sound.
My skin itches and
I attempt to shred
It all away, to dissect
Myself and dive into
The drip-drip-dripping
Black spilling from my
Hollow, still heart.
It no longer drums
Liveliness, and has
Become dust and
Very little else.
Where I dwell is
No place of magic
But a hole in the
Dark dirt; my new
Home where droll has
No place here and never will.
4-28-10
Who does not dance
Upon graceful feet.
In disdain do I
Growl as the well
Defined dragons of
My generation flit
And fly wherever
Their heart desires.
I'm stuck in a pit.
This devil is delayed,
Busy demonstrating
Fairness but not
Partaking in it.
Shaky hands design
Flesh flaws and I
Am ugly once more.
I dig to disappear
And find myself more
Found that sound.
My skin itches and
I attempt to shred
It all away, to dissect
Myself and dive into
The drip-drip-dripping
Black spilling from my
Hollow, still heart.
It no longer drums
Liveliness, and has
Become dust and
Very little else.
Where I dwell is
No place of magic
But a hole in the
Dark dirt; my new
Home where droll has
No place here and never will.
4-28-10
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Deconstructing in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
Deconstructing in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
