Time And Time

Smouldering, I am lost in memories.

Burning, my hate multiplies.

What will be the cost.

If I paid in blood.

Will death even be unevenly even, to even enough.

My heart is not broken.

My heart is shattered by the hammer of pain.

One mind exploded.

Mine, time and time, again and again.

Detailed by the unseen train.

Heading dead on, through the bridge.

Covering the leftovers from my sanity.

Just before you spoke to speak in spikes.

Your teeth clattered to chatter on the floor.

So, I apologise.

You are still alive.

Next time, I will hopefully not be so unlucky.

Because, to make a killer out-in my world.

I would have had to have gained the slain.

I am either becoming weak.

Or you were God-Dammed lucky-famed.

Because my intentions were to the last was.

To make the Bed Of The Dead.

by Unic Cjonr

Other poems of CJONR (332)

Comments (1)

David Lehman is sounding a trifle out of sorts here about nothing more significant than froth