It's a manifestation
Of a greater thing
It's my soul
I'm coughing up
Let's level here
Every neon bit of poison
I spew out
I swallowed first
With a proud salute
I swallowed it when
They opened the gates of their personal horror
I stood right with them
Does it count?
Does it matter?
I couldn't help
I only shared the poison
And now it pulls
Down on my chest
It burns.
It writhes.
I swallowed more when
I gazed in the mirror
And saw nothing but distortions
I couldn't bear to look
And guzzled the stuff.
It helped
It burned my eyes
I know how I'm supposed to look
Unflattering soul of mine
I swallowed it to kill my dreams
Cause you can only choose
To dream or survive
It is poison after all
Should have known
It'd take me too
The last drop of bile
I chose to ingest
I didn't even have a good reason
I did so to remind me of the taste
Now I produce my own bile
I watch them gawk and stare
Watch them stare horrified
As though I'm a leper
And not a man hacking up the
Poison they gave me
Why do they deny it?
It is poison after all.
YOU ARE READING
Disintegration of the Muse
PoetryTrying to show my more serious side I suppose. I've written many poems over the years, thought it would be fun to share.
