Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
I hear the raindrops slip in grime,
through gutters full of rancid slime,
I've gone and fucked myself this time-
I sold my soul for one thin dime.
I can't see but just as well
I know where I am by the smell
I'm back down in the swishing swell
of someone's favorite cheap hotel.
You make me kneel in this charade,
once more I dance in your parade.
I'm not the only man you've made
bow down until his debt is paid.
But now the sin is in my veins,
through paper skin the smell remains.
The mind says yes, the soul complains
in fractured, blood-red pillow stains.
This fetid fog, disgust and shame
have within their mouths my name,
so softly whispering the blame
over me with searing flames-
til once again the sin I find
in little bags he left behind
that hush the mem'ries in my mind-
the ones I never meant to find.
I push until my soul is blind
and all those memories rewind
into the void where demons grind
what's left of me in life unkind.
Now disconnnected from my guilt
I shove the plunger to the hilt
and feel the flutter that will wilt
these shabby walls of clay I built.
The filthy floor is soothing cool,
in twitching time there forms a pool
of blackened blood and foamy drool-
to mark the passing of a fool.
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Poem of the Month
Contest Winner
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Author Notes
Monorhyme, eight syllables per line.
The side of life none of wish to acknowledge, let alone talk about.
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