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Replying to a comment on:
untitled (Free verse) by J.B. Manning It starts to rise like tear drops
Slow and sweat and stinging my flesh
Like acid pressed
Against my chest
And twisted
Turning to invent
The pathway to my sorrows
Yet
I cannot feel
The flesh that peels
From tortured bones
And flayed hormones
That
Break me
Shake me
Set me into flames
Ignited by my shame
A game
We name
The ruler of the duel
These are the rules
The maker of
A game
So cruel
That even sons
And sisters
Die with
Shame
And pain
And screams
Of lost
And tossed
Forgotten dreams
Ripped from
Birth
These bitches
Of the whores weâve
Known as
Unattoned
Relinquished distractions
Mediated fractions
Of a mind
That neither you nor
I
Have ever really
Owned
But dance and pranced
And stood our stance
On ground
So moist and
Loose that even
He would slip beneath
An open lip
Devoured by the
Father
Of all
Time
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