my arm seems to be pulled out by the root
nothing soothes
like a stone through a veil of dust
my upper arms
firmly attached
to the sides
of my torso
as if they were arms
of the Greek gods
these with disconnected and non-existent limbs
that have not stood the test of time
from where
all affairs
are cooked
against my will
to feel
detached
scratched
smothered with mud
in a place where no one can enter
although I have my eye on someone
no one wants to wander there with me
in this agonising and scary environment
full of sharp spikes and briery bushes
but also, beauty in its purest form
oh, what a shame you'll never see it!
***
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About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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