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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #1547893
A poem of mental sleeplessness.
Ready to sift through sanguine hearts
We bleach our feet
After we wade through the rivers of nectar
Infested with dying butterflies
Hold my neck tight
As tight as you want
So I can sleep through this

Mother Superior
The bloodletting is…is
Wearing me thin
Hollow
But I can do it again.

Like the serpents congregating in my belly
Butterflies spew from my mouth
I have been wrought from lustless love.
But I still have been found.
Hold my neck tight
As tight as you can
So I can sleep through this

Mother Superior
The bloodletting is…is
Wearing me thin
Lonely
But I won’t do it again

I rip away at the soil in desperation.
Hoping to find my grip on reality.
But the love sure as hell doesn’t help.
I must bleach my tongue.
Because my stomach is infested with dying butterflies.
Hold my neck tight
Tighter than you want to
So I can forget you.
© Copyright 2009 Cathedra (patty.t at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1547893-Mining-The-Plastic