Saturday, August 25, 2012

Divided Life

Inspiration: This book I'm reading about Henrietta Lacks
Word: Torn

I feel like another part of my life
has been torn from my heart
and my soul be diluted
and flat like cooled hot water
I feel like I've been stretched open
and cut unwilling
like Henrietta

I feel like my tears be endless,
I shed the Sahara

Sometimes I get lost in daydreams
to cultivate new dreams

I can only hope that my torn lives
multiply, like heres did
and love for something
better? Like here ded

I thought I was empty once
that empty felt much better

My pit of black be lonesome
but it shines more vividly
than daybreak suns

My cave is etched with pillars
of heartbreak and isolation

The walls painted heavy
with over thought confusion

The floor burns bright
and catalyzes compulsive upsetting thoughts

I call this place calm

I sit neatly placed at my desk
quieter than that sick silence
so my ears ring of deafening screams
and unprint worthy violence

My hands be numbed
no longer strong enough to lace
just cuff

They be fulfillin' their mission for us
I've been thought down
into an unfair fore-sought destiny

Mothers had more of a dream for me
my torn lives be slabbed on
petri dishes or profited on
by the lawless lords

I wonder if they'll see the moon
or distill into the air
chocking the breathe of dead land
or if they'll revolutionize a society
be noteworthily uncredited
to the hearts that they were torn from

I wonder what might become
of we
I wonder if we might multiply
rather than divide
I wonder if we might reclaim
our torn lives

No comments:

Post a Comment