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Array ( [sid] => 155793 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Today [time] => 2009-12-09 23:37:34 [hometext] => This is my life. [bodytext] => Today, I played in dead men’s guts.
No longer pink and soft but hard and grey; I moved muscle, sawed bone, and lovingly caressed a carcass.
Skin is no longer skin but chemically tattered, leather human hide.
Power in these hands, sharp tools in my grasp, nips and chunks litter the way.
In this empty shell I shall find my salvation, the journey to epiphany.
The latex feel, formaldehyde highs; morgue silences are my euphony. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 192 [topic] => 73 [informant] => ToxicityOfTheCity [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )

Today

Contributed by ToxicityOfTheCity on Wednesday, 9th December 2009 @ 11:37:34 PM in AEST
Topic: abstract

Today, I played in dead men’s guts.
No longer pink and soft but hard and grey; I moved muscle, sawed bone, and lovingly caressed a carcass.
Skin is no longer skin but chemically tattered, leather human hide.
Power in these hands, sharp tools in my grasp, nips and chunks litter the way.
In this empty shell I shall find my salvation, the journey to epiphany.
The latex feel, formaldehyde highs; morgue silences are my euphony.

Copyright Â© ToxicityOfTheCity ... [ 2009-12-09 23:37:34]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Today (User Rating: 1 )
by laststarontheleft on Thursday, 10th December 2009 @ 05:20:09 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

This is a very dark and clever write.
fantastic imagery is cast here
well done
Star x x x

Re: Today (User Rating: 1 )
by ToxicityOfTheCity on Thursday, 10th December 2009 @ 02:15:02 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Thank you. I've seen some of your work, it's good. I just needed an outlet and this is a ice anonymous way.
--T.C.

Re: Today (User Rating: 1 )
by adub1138 on Thursday, 10th December 2009 @ 06:26:03 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I love your choice of words. The poem feels like a love song you'd whisper to your love in bed. It has a roll of the tongue that's entrancing. Again like a love song you'd whisper to your lover in bed...

I know, I know... the subject is not something you'd say to a lover but still. The way that its written, the words slide off your tongue.

BTW, never hide your art... all it does it cover an outlet for frustration. You will be surprised at how many people are receptive to others work. I know its a delicate precious matter but your voice is worth being heard. Remember that.

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