Words rise to the surface in hours of distress.
The demons in your head are all having sex.
+1-800-222-1222 is the number to text right before your throat closes up.
There’s a grenade in your heart and it keeps blowing up.
Why are your eyes and ears bleeding from birdies that poisoned you, and then you died on me.
Immune system’s having a meltdown, while none more abide by thee!
I can see it now, a mind occupied with thought.
I look into the eyes of such a heart filled with want.
Lips taste poisoned, every time I die by it.
I’m crucified up proper, hail the Dark Father, who poisoned all the wine soon before it was water.
Skeletons fall out the closet when you leave the door open.
No one knows such a secret, of which we’re all hoping.
Faces become blue when heartbeats get thready.
You’re closer to death before you are ready.
There’s no cure for a poisoning.
About the Creator
Desmond Razzano
My name is Desmond, and I have a love and passion for writing of all kinds, especially poetry! Most of the content I write about reflects more of my experiences and my pain, and my joy! Every entry or story I post was written by me.
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