talkin’ corneal-transplantation stitches blues …
in stitches,
tears stream down my cheek,
grains of sand sprinkle my eye,
( sigh )
a stitch in time,
may save nine,
but my lesson has been learned:
don’t get too big for my britches,
after all,
life has been kind,
even if it often leaves me in stitches …
metallic tastes burrow deeper into me,
‘i am lost’, i say,
as leaden weight blankets my vision,
and emptiness looms with frantic precision,
‘i am lost’, i say,
once more,
driving the stake deeper and deeper,
into my innermost core,
leaving me
impotent,
torn,
broken,
a shade,
of all i thought i was before,
lost amidst the myriad strands,
of tomorrows yet to dawn,
caught,
drawn,
quartered,
in the vice grip of yesterdays pain,
always,
always,
always,
against the grain,
of cultured norms,
and polished forms,
digging,
stabbing,
skewering those moments,
lost forever,
in a paradise of thorns,
where carcasses are mounted onto silken sheets,
plundered,
pillaged,
by mere men,
monsters sans horns,
where desolation stalks the empty spaces,
etched on numberless faces,
battered and beaten down,
gurgling,
gasping,
snatching odd breaths,
as the edifice itself,
sinks,
tugged below,
ever so slow,
into the quicksand of oblivion,
where suns dipped,
and souls tripped,
onto the final barge,
stammering on our river,
cut to pieces,
shred,
mangled,
diced and sliced,
sliver by agonising sliver
Scribbled Verse 