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still gone

by Matthew Sharp

its the air
its not the same

vomit the soul:


purge emerge on the verge of absurdness every word of this god im so nervous im like the nerd of this shaking so bad cnt evn spel or type the keypad i feel used without kneepads maybe its the knife in my teeth getting in the way when i speak im on a streak
where blood leaks like red ink stains thats what happened when i stepped on my brain maybe im a sadist and ive learned to love pain and hate things that seem to stay the same when daydreams seems the same things as nightmares whenever i stair into thin air i strip it all bare aware to the point where i just lose my fabric and
f r e e z e

12/25/2008

Author's Note:

Posted on 12/25/2008
Copyright © 2021 Matthew Sharp

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/25/08 at 11:09 PM

fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la. Actually, it's always a very distinct pleasure to take in your vicious, often darkly hysterical work. This was outstanding.

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