Substance Of My Abuse – Twisted Prose

clumsily disconnected,

forcibly removed,

a future within a decaying box,

ashes in the mouth of life,

let that pretty smile wash away the tears of a plastic tree,

do it again,

see it fall,

don’t fake it,

a goodbye that’ll last,

walking away in an ache,

friends made into a belief,

crimson in design,

violent in flair,

a pain unopened,

trust impaired,

the delicate shower…

2 Replies to “Substance Of My Abuse – Twisted Prose”

  1. I find myself sometimes wondering who the boy was, that I once shared this skin with, how he would see this world and the man who has inherited his skin. Sometimes I feel him in my words, and in my actions, but it’s an illusion of a memory, for the journey we take forward is never one of choice, but of necessity.

    Like

  2. Brutal. Honest. Very much felt. It’s interesting, a couple years ago I had an experience that pretty much obliterated my connection to feel the pain within. I went numb and have yet to find a way to reconnect with the core of my self. When I read your poetry I get a glimpse and the taste of what I remember my deep self is or perhaps was…

    Liked by 1 person

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