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No Fun At All
No Fun At All
soul still stuck in cradle’s grip born before my mind could fit inside this skull-shaped pit
tasteless heart-tug pulling back cold snip before birth, ice forms a crack.
not even present deep in earth and pine, unrooted trees, bent and twisting.
i am not really here, a visitation not a visitor, the dial tone ringing flat in my ears.
a stab of gorse sought after, a pinch of sharpened pain, a flinch, reminding me i’m near.
a gorse thicket pricks, thick with thorns. yellow petals bloom, spelling doom for mourners.
i gaze out at misty murk where hidden thoughts, sodden, lurk.
rocks like ravens, shadow-tall gravestone gargoyles start to gurgle.
No Fun At All
soul still caught in the grip of being a baby born before my mind could fit into this skull-shaped hole
emotionless heart-pull drawing back cold cut before birth, ice creates a crack.
not even existing deep in earth and pine, uprooted trees, bent and twisting.
I am not really here, a temporary presence not a guest, the dial tone ringing flat in my ears.
a stab of gorse sought after, a pinch of sharp pain, a flinch, reminding me I’m close.
a gorse thicket pricks, thick with thorns. yellow petals bloom, spelling doom for mourners.
I look out at the misty gloom where hidden thoughts, wet, lurk.
rocks like ravens, shadow-tall gravestone gargoyles begin to gurgle.