Caught inside my breath,
The weight of last nights promise.
Pressed against my lips
Is one written word refused.
Forget these hope-stained sheets,
And verse tattooed forever
Upon my Tell-Tale Heart.
I yearn for more language.
Let me drink the last drop of you.
Emerge wild-eyed and awake
To face another day of muse.
Let the bile of critics move me.
When lineaments come to mind
Then casts its evil shadow.
I refuse to bow nor will I wither
From those pious or loitering eyes.
Through a lense of a metaphor.
A vivid scene and my emotions.
I shall survive, I will rely.
Until language and I are one.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
One Written Word Refused
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