Let’s play Scrabble
These are the rules:
Diagonal lines, uncensored words
Entirely blunt
No metaphors
Your turn:
My wrists are pulled, tendons stretched,
Twisted until they pop right off
They go on your hips, Sir.
Removal
My turn:
I bite the fleshy texture
Of your lips,
Chew them up and wear them
As my own.
Cannibalism
Your turn:
Jasmine, cerulean blue eyes
Hold secrets of personal interest.
You smack the back of my cranium
They shoot out from their sockets,
Dangle from a chord of red
A fresh canine mercilessly cuts them down,
Like ripened apples on a tree branch.
Eye-gouging
My turn:
Blue blood, cold, dead
You gurgle like a newborn baby, choking
Though, life has never been so exfoliated
Of old age
And dead skin
My forehead bashes against those
Porcelain teeth,
Delicious tongue is exposed to me
To eat.
I take it.
Cymothoa Exigua
Now we must take offense
To the rules of the game
For there is limitation,
Action we cannot take
And it is unsatisfying.
Why should the boundaries of our relationship
Be limited to,
Not expressed by,
Brains
And heart?
The parts we have taken from each other
Can never be replicated,
Oh, woe is this tragic
Game
Of Scrabble.
What a disturbing, bloody mercenary
Has become of our love.
YOU ARE READING
Phobia: Edge Me
שיריםA collection of poems to pass the time. All poems are written by me.
