Battle wound
April 23, 2002 @ 1:17 p.m.
The blade dances across my skin,
corrupting the tiny hairs
which raise their tiny village in protest.
I fell furthest I've ever been,
am still scrambling out, looking for footholds.
It doesn't bite sharply anymore;
a blunt, dull, boring pain
keeps my mind from more productive hobbies.
And the red numbers fade one into another
as I remember your words
and watch my eyes blur into painful memory.
I am alone, I've convinced myself of it;
no mercy killing of virginity
will change that.
You have beaten me bloody, without
ever raising a fist,
and for a reason to be a self-centered martyr,
I thank you.
My fight was neither valiant nor beautiful;
there was no heightened crashing of swords,
no snarls of rage or envy of innovation.
A coup de grace was administered
a moment too late to be a battle wound.
<< | >>
- - March 22, 2010
always the same - July 01, 2008
b-a-n-a-n-a-s! - December 25, 2006
elementary again - October 29, 2006
I don't like you, but I love you - October 03, 2006