Your Poetry Dot Com - Tiled Visits

Array ( [sid] => 183364 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Tiled Visits [time] => 2016-07-13 08:08:34 [hometext] => Poking around in the dark for my muse [bodytext] => Scraping along,
with the rising sun,
the same bathroom floor,
every morning,
clean and dirty in cycles,
it advised in echo a need for me to visit me;
pay a mind to the insides,
see the ticking parts.

With my rake I jumped down into my throat,
past lungs and fissured heart,
then echoes reminded me upstairs
the answers ticked on warped gears
and spindles bent over years
of foul attempts to wrong the right.

Climbing up again, my lungs laboured
for air I took care to toxify; a gift
to my demise;
the poet, I saw, slumped in a corner,
gasping with dismal eyes; enough life left
to throw a /'/why?/'/ in the irises-
a tear slid from each of us for
what we had become.

A blink;
the bathroom floor,
rising sun-
my odyssey saving the poet
for a few more tiled visits. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 260 [topic] => 69 [informant] => Invierno [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => poets ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Tiled Visits

Tiled Visits
Date: Wednesday, 13th July 2016 @ 08:08:34 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Invierno

Scraping along,
with the rising sun,
the same bathroom floor,
every morning,
clean and dirty in cycles,
it advised in echo a need for me to visit me;
pay a mind to the insides,
see the ticking parts.

With my rake I jumped down into my throat,
past lungs and fissured heart,
then echoes reminded me upstairs
the answers ticked on warped gears
and spindles bent over years
of foul attempts to wrong the right.

Climbing up again, my lungs laboured
for air I took care to toxify; a gift
to my demise;
the poet, I saw, slumped in a corner,
gasping with dismal eyes; enough life left
to throw a /'/why?/'/ in the irises-
a tear slid from each of us for
what we had become.

A blink;
the bathroom floor,
rising sun-
my odyssey saving the poet
for a few more tiled visits.

This poem is Copyright © Invierno

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