Gradual Deterioration


the blackness breathes in then out-

assumptions about death

 

the heart is beating slow, but hard.

and shades for eyes keep shutting,

 

not out of a want to sleep,

but in some manic sort

 

of resistance to artificial light.

freezing regardless of the temperature.

 

remembering a childhood friend

stomping on a baby turtle.

 

the muscles let go and so,

thoughts flow straight no more.

 

howling wind mirrors speech internalized.

(if only it was eternalized)

 

bowels empty again,

with no command.

 

and they say animals were made

for our amusement.

 

9 thoughts on “Gradual Deterioration

    1. I appreciate and enjoy her, but I wouldn’t say that she is an influence, nor could I consider myself a fan considering I’m as familiar with her as any other average poetry reader.

    1. I think it is fair to label it as dark material, but the reason why I think people respond to it well is because the subject matter isn’t dishonest or grandiosely dark, so it doesn’t arbitrarily seem depressing just for the sake of it.

  1. Agggh! I had a childhood friend who did something like this one time and it still haunts me–and that was a long, LONG time ago. I wonder why a child can conceive of doing such a thing when another child is sensitive enough to be bothered by it for a lifetime.

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