UNTITLED III

Iron-scented anger,

Metallic despair

Never ceasing

To flow,

To rush

Through miles

Of subterranean,

Subdermal tressels,

Content to move,

To cleanse,

To carry away,

Transport oxygen

Until

Emotion pierces

The sky

Allows blue

To become

Red,

Because words

Are not enough,

Tears

Are not enough.

Connections

Between

Thought and

Action are

Broken,

And reality

Derails.

Pain exchanged

For pain,

Heartbreak

For skin cutting--

Soul-slicing.

The body heals itself:

Why can’t the heart?

No answer comes.

Copyright (c) 2011 by the author