eat me

The world fed me with horror.

I ate everything on my plate – even doubled.

In the restaurant I called for excitement – more.

Life gave me its heart but I just walked out the door.

I wanted purity, not truth.

So I went to another door,

knocked, because the doorbell was nowhere near,

broke my fingers while trying to make everything clear.

I tortured my body

to cure my soul.

I fired the future

to live only with the old.

                                 December 2012

10 Comments Add yours

  1. That’s good, clean prose. Who do you read?
    Daniel

    Like

  2. Thank you.
    I really enjoy Bukowski’s work. On the other hand I read I lot of the classics. I’m trying to keep my reading as varied as possible. Recently I’ve been into 19th century horrors and mysteries like Poe’s short-stories, started reading Dracula…yup 😀

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    1. I’ve never tried Bukowski. I love horror–what I call “real” horror (I loathe modern day pseudo horror).
      Daniel

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      1. JayMish says:

        Bukowski is not a choice. Go read Bukowski.

        Like

      2. JayMish says:

        One of my favorite poems of all time: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2010/08/04

        Seriously amazing.

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      3. He’s excellent. Thank you.

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      4. also excellent. Thanks.

        Like

  3. yeah, classic horrors are great. you should try Bukowski, though, very real and wise writing

    Like

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