by Rowan Luis
Cold and hollow spheres of wind, sweep away the clouds. Heavy, throwing rain down onto my window in sharp spiteful tones. I haven’t moved for over three hours, my blood is starting to settle cold on the parts of my body in contact with the bed.
Reminds me of a course I went to a few years ago; “Introduction to Criminology” at Sheffield University. No idea why I thought I’d be able to make it in the police force. Anyway we sat through a lecture one day; slides showing dead people at various stages of decay. If a corpse is left in one position without being drained, all its fluids settle to the bottom like the bits in orange juice or sediment in wine. A girl at the back of the hall started having a fit at one point, no one knew what to do.
Christ, I’ve just compared myself to a corpse. Things have to get better from now on.
At least when my limbs are re-attached I’ll be able to get out there on the bike; do some swimming, sack the nurse who’s nails dig into my foreskin when she wanks me off. She should fucking cut them because last Thursday she drew blood and the only form of retaliation I had was spitting and she’d moved too far away, so I just ended up spitting on myself and that made everything seem worse. She’s about due actually, I should stop writing because my dribble is all over the keyboard.
Author's Note: This is old. It's also pretty awful, but I like it anyway! I wrote it quite a while ago for a friend's blog. I wasn't the one who chose the title for it, but it makes sense
Posted on 04/05/2009
Copyright © 2021 Rowan Luis
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Coleman Demiurge on 04/05/09 at 07:54 PM|
Not awful in the least - you're far too hard on yourself. I liked it too, especially the opening and closing lines paragraph. It's hard to be disturbing and amusing at the same time, but you have done it very well... Excellent work.