Abject Murderer
And when all is gone
There will be none;
Because you thought you are,
Because you thought you were;
When you are long gone,
When there was none;
And the friction ignited the drivels
Of fiction, of fraction,
Of great divide
That was there
In the pumping
Of the breathing veins and atriums
Meandering, calculating
All that's gone
More apt
The weight of none;
And what good will it serve
To stare down at loaded gun?
Yearning for your lips,
The velocity of your heart,
The frost in your temples,
Why won't you seize
The one who needs you,
Can't you hear the gears grinding
Without pulling the trigger,
Can't you feel the spilling of blood
That the treacle reckons.
You are long dead
Capitulated in the agony
Of hanging on to
A quicksand of hope
With hands of quartz
That wouldn't pull the trigger
Neither halt the pilfer
Of words,
Of life
Give me
What I deserve
Caress the laments
In the blackest demise.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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