Precipice

Folder: 
Hambre del Alma

 

 

It’s complicated-

putting the monsters away

 

I sing them a soft song every night

and they sleep

I do not 

 

I keep reaching out-

friends, family

no one is listening anymore

I stare at my own words, unaswered 

nowhere familar to land 

 

I think rock bottom is

a real place

though you won’t find it on any map 

it‘s that long bridge,

between loneliness and ugliness 

the sound of your two feet 

echoing 

resonating off objects that you no

longer notice 

 

and at some point,

the only solace there is

is that you will be seen 

Even If only by the congregation of birds that

swoop in long strides above

 

There is comfort that you will

fly too

with them

in small pieces 

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allets's picture

Reduced

 

    • To atoms to vanish
    • to grow down
    • and to go below
    • and under, like
    • before.
    • .
    • Nothing in the sun
    • makes sense
    • or listens, like
    • before.
    • .
    • Close the soil
    • gently over my feet
    • and plant me like
    • a seed in dirt,
    • to grow me up
    • again, like before.

 


 

 

Incompl's picture

Felt I was standing and

Felt I was standing and staring over a steep drop while reading. the magic you make when you write has answers. 


Let your teeth show

life_used_to_be_lifelike's picture

  That means so much, thank

 

That means so much, thank you lady. 


"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.