I feel...
a quiet, little, nothing in my brain -
a worm without a story
as to how it got there.
I feel the slither
sticking to membranes;
crawling through grey matter,
that doesn't even matter -
but it's mine.

Dig out the jack-o-lantern kit
and take my letter jacket
and wrap it around the picture
on this lonely desk.
I kiss your memory goodbye
the thousandth time...
or maybe more.
And now that memory
belongs to this little nothing -

a worm with no more smile;
a worm I'm getting out.

No matter how you're mine,
in memory,
in motion,
you are rotting in my flesh
and he's picking you out of his.

A lonely, little nothing worm
that squirms inside whatever of the soul
resides discretely in a mind.
I hate him. And I want him out.

I take the strings off that guitar
you gave me
in the fallout days,
and wrap them all so tight across my limbs
as I might squirm so much.

I'd hate to mess a carpet up.
I'd hate to ruin place-mat settings.
In case you're ever hungry...
you might sit again one day.
But not before this wretched, winding, worm
is out this boring head.

I eat the candle stick
and swallow the flame.
I drink down the wine and crack
a bottle in a thousand little pieces
and I eat them.
I chew them down like nectarine suppers
and he just squirms and squirms.

My jaw won't work
and both my hands are wrapped
around these tired strings
but I don't hear the music.
I bet this ugly, little, nothing
hears himself a tune.

Beyond amazing write.

Wow. That's so vivid.

I must be dense, I just never get most poetry..

Maybe if I get drunk I would understand???????????????

i'd be willing to bet it does...

fantastic piece p_p

Wow I read it slow and enjoyed the great imagery cool

Wow I read it slow and enjoyed the great imagery cool

beyond cool