The Red Mist


There is a mist in me,
a big red fist of a mist
that comes out of nowhere,
worlds shatter, mostly mine,
and pain is searing
it clings to me
like getting caught
in barbed wire
in a field where you know
you shouldn't have
stolen the mushrooms,
or daffodils or any damn thing.

Its there, right inside,
ecstatic when released,
unleashing all kinds of hell,
a great swell of a river,
whitewater rafting
for the fearless and finding
oneself, submerged deep
in frothing water
trying to avoid rocks
that come at breakneck pace;

Its the angel face
when everything is screwed,
inscrutable, while inside
those torrents churn,
turning over stones,
a blood red mist
that actions can't atone.



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 434 times
Written on 2013-04-01 at 19:24

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your writing is très éllé-gant.
2013-04-02