Isn’t it strange how little omens from the past resurface, pointing to how badly f**ked up you already knew things were? I stumbled upon this poem I wrote in January on the back of an especially vicious night, a month before Dax and I even moved in. He kept nagging me to write him something (or more to the point: about him, I suspect) but inspiration for a love sonnet never came. This, however, did:
Red
you wanted a poem
tore sinew from bone
ripped from the viscera
one scarlet stone
oh! high priest hypocrisy
truss truth up in lies
knife to the face
twists in my eyes
my love not enough
alteration will find
sleep wrenched narcotic
a tyrannical bind
burn those lights, jailer!
brighter than hell
test me with torture
beat me til I’m well
sell out my soul
heart living but dead
beating and bleeding
now easily led…
(23.01.2011)
surf b*tch...
Major fan of this page, a bundle of your articles or blog posts have really helped me out. Awaiting posts!
thank YOU Billie for your kind words. the words and experiences of others has certainly helped me! wishing you the best!
Wow, I can honestly say that the power behind these words would have drawn me closer even if they spoke so much of my tempted prophecy. Should you ever write a poem my way- I would be sure to read and read again, in search of hidden and pained dismay. This was not hidden.
it was a brutal relationship that took me to the brink of sanity and nearly snuffed the mortal flame. if I wrote something for you, I hazard that it would take a tender lilt – after ‘Red’ I learned to heed the warning signs of sociopathic behaviour & so ceased the need to pen poems of such existential angst and prophetic despair…