The Feeding of Memories
Continuing the theme from the past few weeks, I’ve got another poem for you today! There’s a bit of a clear pattern with this one, which I tried to have some fun with, although ‘fun’ doesn’t feel quite right to describe a poem with this sort of tone. In any case, I hope you find this one to be an interesting read!
The Feeding of MemoriesRopes linger on the walls.
Walls bleed their life-blood, paint.
Paint masks the old wounds.
Wounds dry for silver scars.
Scars purple in the cold.
Cold bruises broken brains.
Brains remember music cries.
Cries kept me up at night.
Night belongs to salt-stained demons.
Demons knock so harsh for Hell.
Hell is locked inside a skull.
Skull crumbs feed the starving rats.
Rats burn for the ravenous self.
Self to self is always best.
Best falls off the highest cliff.
Cliff is source and solution: Heartbreak.
Heartbreak doesn’t sting in daylight.
Daylight is the only haven.
Haven invaded, Baby’s cries.
Cries kept me up at night.
If you enjoyed this, click here to check out some of my poetry collections – free ebooks available as well as print books on Amazon!
(You can also tip me on my Ko-Fi page if you’d like to support an author!)
