Hands above my head, I bend back.
Further until my spine stretches,
the sections crack and strain,
my lower back aches and cries.
A little further
and my hands brush against the tile,
press down and hold my weight in place.
My spine wants to part the skin,
leave the flesh around it appear like
paper torn down the middle,
jagged edges bloody and loose
as the broken neck of a crow.
And you said I wasn't flexible.
"Bending over backwards,"
was the one thing I wouldn't do for you.
The one thing you loathed most.
I wouldn't crack the back of tension
and relieve you.
I wouldn't twist it just to watch your anger
rise to the stage of your face,
ranting in the spotlight of your eyes.
And you knew I would never
break it down,
gather each shattered piece of vertbrae,
in a small pile around My Evil
and light it a-flame.
My sweating hands slip on the tile
and shatter the bone,
leaving splinters in the veins,
and poisoning my blood.
End: 11:22 pm
Fri. Sept. 4, 09
| Absolutely marvelous in your descriptions, i loved the imagery and the flow was superb. Not quite what i expected when i saw the category was love but nontheless it was a unique perception of it.|
"as the broken neck of (a) crow" or did you intend for it to be this way on purpose? I liked this piece, it starts out delicate then it grows a bit tense and then it delivers the message that it had hidden from the start. Kinda abstract in a way but also straightforward in others. I liked it! Thanks for sharing!
|| Posted on 2009-09-11 00:00:00 | by Clayman | [ Reply to This ] |