Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Wince
In my dreams,
I painted him a monster.
I bang my head against the wall,
Failing to meet reality.
Hello, I die.
What I try to say
Gets trampled and muddy.
My hands are rough from reaching out.
I grab, I stab, I suppurate.
I fall to escape.
When I'm done, I'm empty.
My soul is swiss cheese and holy.
I am the universe, and I am a black hole.
I am destroying the beauty in certain people.
Like a jester, they dance and offer hilarity to me.
I swat them away, I should know better than to care.
I rise, I fall, I'm beating away angelic hands and finding
Only demonic palms offering escape; they shine like crystals.
February 16, 2009
I painted him a monster.
I bang my head against the wall,
Failing to meet reality.
Hello, I die.
What I try to say
Gets trampled and muddy.
My hands are rough from reaching out.
I grab, I stab, I suppurate.
I fall to escape.
When I'm done, I'm empty.
My soul is swiss cheese and holy.
I am the universe, and I am a black hole.
I am destroying the beauty in certain people.
Like a jester, they dance and offer hilarity to me.
I swat them away, I should know better than to care.
I rise, I fall, I'm beating away angelic hands and finding
Only demonic palms offering escape; they shine like crystals.
February 16, 2009
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Wince
Wince