Thursday, March 1, 2018


all it takes is one
to dig the fingers in
poke around to feel
for what should have been
but the cavity is empty
like the graves of my elders
but what was i expecting
from this futile exercise
perhaps i should exorcise
this shell
to carve out a place
in my own private hell
why should i look outside
when i don't understand within
so i cut, slice, and prod
till i reach all the way in
in the end i will
eat myself if need be
even if my eyes are shut
i still need to see

There is a Stephen King short story Survivor Type. It's about a surgeon who is smuggling heroine in an airplane and he crashes on an island. It's horrible and amazing what happens next.

No comments:

Post a Comment