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Waking up with a small,
red gash on your knuckle
– a bloody gully – it is something
like waking up
wearing Hitler’s wedding ring
or looking into the shiny,
taxidermied eyes
of a unicorn’s head, mounted
on oak.

Last night
I was alone.
I cursed it.
I threatened to eat hearts
and rape virgins.
Instead I screamed
and my fist screamed
and together we claimed
the wall. The wall.
©2006-2009 ~under-water
:iconunder-water:

Author's Comments

7/2005

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:icondarksparks:
... I heart that poem lol... seriously though thats great.
:iconorigami0203:
Dude, i love this poem.
Well actually I basically love all your poems but yeah.

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June 26, 2006
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