Despair is the cat-cries
and strange sounds in the night
That curdle your blood
And serve it up:
sticky, oozing red
on toast.
It smells like
cold
And the fading of light
and a heart that’s been weighted:
a heavy heart.
It tastes like mould
and bones of old
that have been crushed to make the flour
for the bread.
The bread is grey and crunchy
it tastes like gravestones
And once
i found the cries of a child inside
Sobbing for mother and home.
It looks
like a dark, leering cave
the entrance to which is only in your mind.
Strange voices are there,
they say:
“Give up! Crumble! Fall! Cry!”
Despair feels
like everything warm and alive
in your body
has been taken out
to leave you
with cold
nothingness.
It sounds like a cold breeze
Whistlin’ through the trees
And a small
dry
sob.
Despair is dark nothing
that slowly consumes you
until you are nothing
as well.
YOU ARE READING
Parts of Me
PoetryWhenever you read one of my poems You hold a part of me, And it hides in my brain or beating heart Now I give it to thee. You may hold this precious Part For a while, at least. So treat it well, respect my thoughts, And there shall be a peace. For i...
