| this is oh so blue A MAGAZINE OF FICTION, POETRY & MORE! |
| black |
| this is black shadow |
| ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE.COM |
| ISSUE #14 $O.OO |
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| July 2004 |
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| ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE.COM |
| ***BIO*** Chris Kendalls: I've been published in only a handful of places, Ariga, DeepCleveland, and Silent Fusion. I'm 31 and have been writing poetry for the last 5 or 6 years or so. |
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| © 2004 zygoteinmycoffee Ink. |
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| Dull end of the blade |
| by Chris Kendalls |
| Looking into the mirror This wretched routine To cut my face I should have never started Ultra-clean Take pride in what? Think of the depressed This is beauty Acceptable, ironic that The ugliness of cutting Feel hideous inside Like if they look into a mirror A monster looks back at them To taunt them and torment them If you do it somehow The stress and the grief of life Is going to flow out of you The exposure of one's blood Cleanse their souls Heal their wounds Growing up that monster Was in the closet Under the bed somehow Stole everything I'd lost Of course, there is shame So if you can hide it Under your clothing Parts of the body that Are never exposed No one needs to know That you can't cope Can't deal with your problems If I'm pretty perhaps I won't have problems Where did this start? Think of a time where You were busy hunting Gathering, protecting Image didn't matter Perhaps this clean face More of a commentary Of where we've gone As a society, I mean if You have it all together You should be able to find time Keep yourself together I mean how do you find Someone to call your own Attract the opposite sex With your face in it's shadow. Not a concern for someone Who inflicts pain on themselves? If the soul is damaged within Expose the blood to get life Away from the damned vessel If the blood is on the outside Perhaps there is a fighting chance For the life of the person within Besides everything on some level Are blood, water, and dirt air, nature, life is perhaps At it's best a celebration A method to the madness Of this creation, evolution From what was created What was created from What was evolved, what We're intelligent enough To have come about with I put hours into this That deteriorates, over years For the hair to turn gray, then white A hemophiliac would continue to bleed Maybe it's a lot for An experience you take for granted They don't want to bleed They fight to live Others fight to die Live to die Do I slay my monster Or do I refer to him When I'm sick of you Don't believe you Are rejected by you I've set a trap The monster is caught In a net covered in a tarp If it's too good to be true I'll have to let him out I'll let my beard grow for today |