❦→[the skeleton hand man]
the skeleton hand man,
sits on your shoulders
and gushes his fingers
into an empty, barren land
where the scent of cherry lingers
passes over the bricks and boulders
yet never stays
long enough for reminiscent days
he grips your nape
to devoid escape
" 'tis more merciful to fall behind drapes
ask the dramatics
or the downfall fanatics,
the ones who've made
the same mistakes"
he pulls on bandages, tighter
brings forth a half-vintage lighter
clicks it and says,
"your being
is this worth
clicking, shuddering and seeing
but never lighting up
for it is old, rusted and covered in dirt"
he presses on your eyelids
till the eyeballs slither and skid
out their cage,
hanging still in a juno rage
how is it being themis?
when you only dream it?
when he dosen't make vicarious sounds
the skeleton hand man
is fun to be around
drowning in pages of his own plan
and jotting that he himself is damned
(extra out of context info: the image is a painting i made of the fall of icarus, pls ignore the watercolors not bleeding that well because i've only started using them)
YOU ARE READING
| musings harmonizing
Poetryhi! <3 this is a collection of my self written poems/songs over the years. lowercase intended. possible triggers - i have introductory poems in the begging to showcase my writing style, with one old and one new poem. - most of this is imaginative...
