Seris
2020-11-22

***

embittered by sadness
emboldened by hope
one more day, you deny
the allure of the rope

the promise of a world
not far from your hands
three inches to winter
not hidden in distant lands

but the clock is ticking
and the walls are pressing in

and you do nothing.

you just swallow the pain.

while the number in your bank account
climbs ever higher
it's never enough
to rekindle passion's fire

he scalpels out your heart
and leaves in its wake a void
and replaces your joints
with hinges from toys

and parades you around
on fraying black strings
and wonders why you no longer
have the capacity to sing

with porcelain flesh
underneath frilly clothes
he puppets you around
while your organs drown in prose

your mind is wandering
with black holes enthralled:
life from this point is
not living at all

you resolve that, if you are truly doomed
to live life in constant hollow war:
you'll farm from the anguish, hopelessless, gloom
in the respite between arguments, interruptions, chores

barren land you may be
but harvest you must
the words the last thing
of yours you can trust

the words bubble up
from the depths of your throat
so fast you fear
you'll start to choke

hold them within
right next to your heart
write it on your skin
lest it tear you apart

and shatter the puppet
your jailer of you has made
allowing the dreams
you've incubated to fade

***

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
