Help | About | Suggestions | Alms | Chat [0] | Users [0] | Log In | Join
 Search:
Poem: Submit | Random | Best | Worst | Recent | Comments   

The Price You Pay (Free verse) by Fear of Garbage
Why has the way always got to be physical? Skin, food, blood, IV drips. Collapsed lungs. Fungus. Diseased gums. Foot in mouth. Greek for the letter. Black for cancer. She is merely physical. You can’t be bothered With courtesy, prose or art. Much more hollow than I thought at first. If I pick her up, she’s dead; at least it feels that way. Her lungs have been spun with a loom. They are that useless. Strange fruit. Drips from our lips. Sometimes I think it odd that Billie was your favorite woman. You hated all the others. Raw pits and ulcers. They had to cut a slit in you seven inches long that never healed. And all the inches of stitches were parallel to your arms. You couldn’t even lick your wounds. Sometimes I think you’d be better left unborn. Young in raw sunlight and hay. Torn silk, blue sky. A little hole to hold the both of us. You, dying famished. You never ate, but just drank it straight down the tube. Hypodermic needles. Put you in kaleidoscopic state. The days of lolling on bales of hay are over. The price you pay for stomachaches.

Back to poem details

xxx68.166.37.1850June 15, 2005 5:04 PM PDT
nentwined66.92.28.147April 22, 2004 12:40 PM PDT
Bachus24.130.214.1807April 15, 2004 3:47 PM PDT
wilco24.176.102.13110April 15, 2004 3:36 PM PDT
Anonymous68.66.196.1689April 15, 2004 10:26 AM PDT
edpeterson68.79.22.219April 15, 2004 8:59 AM PDT
zodiac152.30.201.16810April 15, 2004 8:15 AM PDT



Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001