Rusting Gut-Buster
Recycled your feelings.
In your head machinery churns,
Heart crunches;
You choke out a confession,
Like the latest commodity
On a factory line.
Hold a price gun to your head.
Reduced, damaged, discontinued stock.
DESTROY
Screeches the red tape
Over your mouth and your nose,
Restricting your breathing.
It snakes past your collarbones.
Tickles ribs, entices gooseflesh.
Loops graceful betwixt your swollen wrists
Squeezes thighs, throttles ankles
Holds you tight.
Marked and bound by failing words
Lungs and tongues and vocal chords
Ugly, premature disclosure --
DESTROY DESTROY DESTROY --
Not even the warehouse wants you now.
It's over.
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Rusting Gut-Buster, which
was posted on Dec 21, 2011 by
Miserabilia.
This is a solo poem.
Some rights reserved.
This poem is filed under:
Free Verse, Imagery
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