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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Adult · #1942721
A longer poem about life, death, writing and what remains after I am gone

-I Now Bleed-
by
Keaton Foster

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Hemorrhaging
A cerebral wringing
All that is inside
Will come out
All that is contained
Will be spilt
Milking, oozing
Suckling emaciated goons standing
Waiting, wanting, desiring
Fools for words are easily fooled
They believe what is being said
Oh such desperate truth
Is indeed a terrible illusion
A slide of the hand
A turn of the stone
My imagination unhinged
Bound by nothing
Bound by none of them
Alone, naked, and accused
I stand before the page
I fear nothing of what is required
This mask that I’m wearing
Has no holes for sight
Yet I am
And have always been seeing
Such profound clarity
Certainly comes at a price
Showing me everything
In this finite something
Makes all the difference
I am of course unafraid
Concerned about everything less
I will not fight any form of death
How could I ever
When I am done
When I am truly exposed
I will stand at the altar of my prescribed God
Once I am laid down
Into the depths of the ground
I will climb high above the ashes
High above all of my afflictions
So here I am
I now bleed
Self-inflicted
Such a dereliction of living
I held the blade
Without concern
Regardless of shame
Suicide and escape
Are not the same
How could they ever be
God above will understand
I will be let into his prison
I will be treated like a returning convict
Such punishment will be in direct contradiction
With ease I will be able to take it
Life, the one to be left behind
Is and has been impossible
I now bleed
Every ounce of me is flowing
Every part of me remains
As the soul of my whole escapes
Out into the exponential blue
Of Heaven’s undying ruse…


I Now Bleed
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2013

© Copyright 2013 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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