Salt water drips out of the corner of my eye
I fall face first into a bed made of lies
My neck holds regret
My chest bears despair
The light that was inside
Is no longer there
This quilt is a patchwork of horror
This hallucination of reality is gore
I can’t compose myself or a poem
So I won’t do anything anymore
Wash my sins with polluted air of another
Subtract body-deep effects of the one and only Mother
Impale my damaged brain
Corrode all self-perception
Stripping drained varnish off
May expose a less distorted reflection
This trauma is an undercover agent
This sewage runs from the floor to the ceiling
My cells contain dead life and damp fire
How much will it cost to stop feeling?

3 thoughts on “PATCHWORK OF HORROR

Add yours

  1. It could cost you everything, but what if you went full immersion, feel everything. ‘Being’ The doing becomes the non doing, only existing in the now. What if awakening is nothing more than full immersion in the now? I expect a 5000 word essay on my desk by Friday, wonderful poem BTW.


    1. Only 5,000 words? Funnily enough, after I wrote this poem I started to feel very peaceful and more awake. I knew I had been asleep for the last few days (I think that’s obvious in the poems I’ve posted) but I couldn’t seem to snap out of it. It’s like I had to ride out the storm and become aware of the restrictions I lay on myself. Painful but necessary. I probably could write 5,000 words on my experience of this. It has been a total headfuck

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Haha, yes ONLY 5’000. You say you’ve being asleep but to me it looks more like lucid dreaming, your level of self awareness is still high. You see the dream, you consciously act and play in it but there are energies within the dream that manifest themselves in chaotic and random ways. These fuckers are taking an axe to the door, sticking their faces through and screaming ‘Here’s Lisa’! So yes, i think you should write of this experience. Storms pass….only to followed by more storms! haha!

    Liked by 1 person

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