MISERY FUELS MY HANDS

stuck in beautiful misery

my blackened eyes will cut short me

by blocking out all that I’d hate to see

the echoes of the world that come

bountiful and twirling

spinning epoch of my fingertips in bliss

I’m right when I’m writing

and wrong when I’m dying to write

all the endings I have spelled them out in time

its surrender to taste every demon every day

where I’m left with nothing but my fears and trials

it’s not enough to take control and spit it all away

splinters dig themselves deeper in my brain

reminders of all those I’ve left behind

and all those that let me burn

in this hell of my impossible making

I’m the devils imposter

a demon incarnate and bearing incarnations

sedating nations with my words

when i can’t sleep

I’m a beauteous benefactor of my own

tragic actions

I tend to benefit from my deep suffering

each pain that bites at me

lends my hands its tragedy

giving strength to all the words that I must say

and I must say its not enough to stay away

you are better off much further then arms length

you were wrong when you told me

that it wasn’t all my fault

I drove you to this abandonment and

gave you wounds to salt

opened up a portal in

each of our minds

letting in all

the light

to places

we left

behind

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2 thoughts on “MISERY FUELS MY HANDS

  1. I like a lot of your rhythmic choices and your use of diction that flows well in the pieces while not being overly pedestrian. I also like a few of your inversions. It keeps a reader on their toes 🙂

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