Monday, April 28, 2008

The Wound

I have a mother wound that will not heal
It hemorrhages loss and hope like a cracked pipe
A house haunted like the clean bones that I pull
One by one from the hole in my arm like
Blood from the veins I’ve tried to open
Like the jellyfish of a dream that empties
Me of bones and teeth and blood and anything
To say help me someone I die of starvation
For a little real something that feels like
Love might now slow the draining death
Of my mother’s need to be better than everyone
Include me, stinking, loud, sucking child of needs


benjibopper said...

i like this a lot, it hurts in the way it should. the images are gutteral. it's hard not to feel that way (even though I am clearly no mother) sometimes.

Utah Savage said...

Benji, you are one brave man. Men have fled this sight. You may not be a mother, but I'll bet you had one.

Ghost Dansing said...

that's a kewl poem Utah.... downer.... but really kewl.

goth maybe emo

Randal Graves said...

Now that wasn't a very happy piece. Probably why I like it.