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Poems - On this raw night

On this raw night

by Ozymandias

On this raw night
I talk to myself
about open wounds.

Outside in the corridor
somebody is stalking me
with a gun.
I hear his footsteps
and heavy breathing.

I wait for the nurse
with the brown paper bag
to pivot on her heel
and step towards me
through pools of vomit.

She wields the needle
that will be my resurrection;
she speaks softly of summer
as it was, in the heathlands
once, giving birth to the blue wren
who hopped through happiness
into dawn after dawn.

Crazy, this sterility of shadows
that gives birth to nothing,
the moon too pale
to conceive beyond mendacity.

I reveal it all:
the cats that couple outside my window
screaming out their discordant design;
the crashing of branches in the thunderstorm;
the rain that falls unwillingly on pavements
already tortured by the feet of passersby
who rush from the night.

If in this fractal chaos I do not deign to speak
to others, but only to my carefully hidden self,
forgive me, do not hold the cloak of reason to my face.
Do not abhor a vacuum, let it be thus
that I have learned the language, long ago,
of silence and another way through life.

I roll my sleeve up: come, needle, jab!
A better night now, if I never know
the shadows as they pick their way across my bed
with the passage of the moon across the sky.

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Re: On this raw night (Score: 1 )
by BrokenWordsPoet on Sunday, May 13, 2012 (13:40:14)

delirium... A usually brief state of excitement and mental confusion often accompanied by hallucinations (black dots or bugs climbing the walls and over the tops of my covers)as the drug sweeps through my veins where once again my minds search for relief from pain has been found even though it is a temporary mask for my pain, then all I want to do is sleep.

Rory... I have been there. One thing I don't get is the man with the brown bag and gun and I know they must be a metaphors.

BWP...

| Parent

Re: On this raw night (Score: 1 )
by Ozymandias on Sunday, May 13, 2012 (18:32:34)

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