PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I don’t know why I do this to myself
but here I am:
sucking down the sour patchwork of misplaced threads
worn bare from fingers stroking figures
over and over
in some rhythmic hope of release
through the mammary gland that once nourished my thoughts
but now runs dry after this ramped twist of fate
that threw me;
not screaming,
but humming some tune I thought I may have remembered
from some years ago when the world knew how to stand on its feet
and my knees weren’t as bloody
hungry for some sense of justice.

I almost remember the person I believe I once was;
but I don’t remember what it was like to sit here
and think as I do before time could cause blindness:
before I found you.