Writing sucks - no
It is cruel.
It is cruel.
“It’s getting something off your chest,”
except it stays.
It is
the bitter cranberry juice stain on a white dress.
Nothing removes, rather
writing wiggles the dagger inside.
Grooving,
it doubles as a ladder.
Blood spurts, then climbs
the analogical ladder,
to leap from the roof
to the paper.
Wounds remain,
after forceful claws to communicate.
A hostage situation -
waterboard me ‘til I speak.
I’ll cough it all up,
and I’ll feel it shoot.
“Poetic,” projectile vomit.
More stains.
except it stays.
It is
the bitter cranberry juice stain on a white dress.
Nothing removes, rather
writing wiggles the dagger inside.
Grooving,
it doubles as a ladder.
Blood spurts, then climbs
the analogical ladder,
to leap from the roof
to the paper.
Wounds remain,
after forceful claws to communicate.
A hostage situation -
waterboard me ‘til I speak.
I’ll cough it all up,
and I’ll feel it shoot.
“Poetic,” projectile vomit.
More stains.
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