Like a bumblebee
Or a little boy
I was livin’ in your box without air
Suffocatin’ to the last
Drop of my blood
On the knife
You were preparin’ for me in the kitchen
All this time
Without
Any words to say
Only hate
As the fastest response to my requests
For catchin’ a breath
*
Each time I swallowed disgust
Of your ignorance
Whilst the whole world hanged
On your inability to speak
To me humanly
Only
Like an animal
Goin’ out foragin’
Whilst I couldn’t come up for air
*
Each time you rambled with flies around you
I was wonderin’ why
You intended to mess up with me
Havin’ a face with the joker’s ability
Jumpin’ from flower to flower
Resemblin’ a bumblebee
Or a madman, miser monster, merely a man
A little boy instead
In need of restraint
And placin’ in a cage
For all the wild creatures
Unable to hurt me this way
Whilst strangled in confined air
*
To A. C.
*
13 June 2021
***
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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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By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
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