EastWesterly Review Home -- Blog -- EastWesterly Review -- Take2 -- Martin Fan Bureau -- Fonts a Go-Go -- Games -- Film Project -- Villagers -- Graveyard
Custom Search

EastWesterly
Review

Issues

38 | 37 | 36 | 35
34 | 33 | 32 | 31 | 30
29 | 28 | 27 | 26 | 25
24 | 23 | 22 | 21 | 20
19 | 18 | 17 | 16 | 15
14 | 13 | 12 | 11 | 10
9 | 8 | 7 | 6 | 5
4 | 3 | 2 | 1


   
Annual Conferences

24th | 23rd | 22nd | 21st | 20th
19th | 18th | 17th | 16th | 15th
14th | 13th | 12th | 11th | 10th
9th | 8th | 7th

Foundling Theory Fund

Letters from the editor

Submit your article

Links

Get e-mail when we update our site. Your e-mail:
Powered by NotifyList.com
help support us -- shop through this Amazon link!

© 1999-2016
Postmodern Village
e-mail * terms * privacy

bleeding
by Melissa Thompson

something i have always wanted
slipped between my stark white fingers
death stole me away from you
you who killed me don't suffer

and i never wanted it to be
so extremist you radical brownshirt
in a black world your arms
of iron don't crash on me out of love

anymore though they never really did
it just seemed that way to everybody
else the masses that worshipped
you who lead them by divine right

and i who stood in the shadows ever clawing
at you for you with you to you
my hands bled for you who did not
wrap them with gauze for me

you who let me die in the trenches of our war
which really wasn't a war but more
like a police action so you didn't have
to consult with anyone or me before taking

control of the pathetic life wriggling
in front of you like a worm on a hook
you smelly herring will you bite me
lord know i wouldn't feel it

my scabbed skin has formed calluses
so you could never hurt me
by merely touching me with your prickly
little hands of doom and gloom

though you might make a red liquid
gurgle forth from my lips but you
wouldn't notice anything wrong because
something is always wrong with me

but never with you mr indestructible
i've exploded so much i'm not a whole person
i've imploded so much i don't exist
how can i be so out of control

always in power of your steering wheel
i by the curb fearing you'll never come back
yet i don't realize why i care
because you never did did you

rest my head on the mailbox in which
i never got a letter kick the lonely
pebble into the street where it blends in
with the granular asphalt

it's separate yet it blends in when you
look at it from the top but i can't see that
from down here at the bottom
can't see nothing but red and black

good colours for a wedding i'll never have
never wanted to just wanted something
don't know what don't know how don't know why
i ever made such a big deal never mind oh you

who never really cared about anything
much less me or anyone else
we're sitting on a park bench i the
lonely pigeon waiting for your crumbs

will you ever throw them to me will you will you
ever throw them throw them throw me
to the floor like you did before
and trample me trample me trample me

next to of course god i love you
of all sinners who crucified me
with your nine inch nails and your
bloody cross did you make it just for me

crying my head off will you put it
back on for me be rough be rough
so rough unlike your smooth pink hands
that brushed against my face as you

slapped me consistently for all eternity
god how i love the pain you inflict
i am afflicted with your barrels of fun
i meant pain i did i did

not do anymore you're not my daddy
you're my beekeeper keep stinging me
with your lack of words like ted hughes
plenty of vague words for the public

nothing for the patient plath at home
rearing your two children while you
f.ed around with god knows who
or rather god knows what

certainly i don't know did i ever
claim to be god or did you just will me
to be the devil or did i even deserve
to be an extremist in your extreme world

of pain of hell of everything in despair
i lived in it too but you never seemed able
to rescue me from the choking waves
i suffocated you suffocated me suffocated

i was dying i was dying i was crying
over spilled blood and the like
me myself not i any more or today
walked away yesterday but it's

been two days in a row you've
talked to little pitiful me in the
sewer system of your soul it needs
flushed out by toxic chemicals

that could kill me kill me kill me dead
and i could lay with moments near my eyes
and tears in my fingertips of purple
slowly quietly passing away from reality