Tuesday, June 20, 2017



Salve on the gashes
but rubs become scratches.
These lashes. ...

They itch.
I fiddle and twitch
just to stop
but the switch
again flipped
and I'm peeling.

I'm kneeling.
Hard surface.
Punished as I trifle.
I'm kneeling in service.
Decrepit Disciple.
I'm kneeling in purpose
but just not in purpose.
I'm frightened.
I'm nervous.
It hurts
and you've heard this.

Nowhere I can go.
The door is wide open
but where will I go?
I'm morbid.
I'm moping.
The wounds are still open
so I can still crawl
but I don't move at all
though I long for the fountain.
Condition that I'm in
is at best malnourished.
Can't recall when I've flourished
without a few sips.
I've bent
I've dipped
I've cried from the pain

I've thought "Not again"

but that whip
and that chain.
Each strike so concise
still engraved in my brain
stained like walls
and the floor.
Each time a bit more
with raised head as you shove.
You're standing above
and I'm looking for love.
Through grimace I've traced
as I wince,
and then look for some grace.
Wish for mercy misplaced
as you batter my face.

The "why" I am wondering
while balled up recovering...
...a question left hovering
that hurts more than whips
feels as cold as these chains.
Answers complex and plain
yet I cannot explain
why I can't reach these keys
barely high on the shelf.
I'm furthest from freedom
but I still try to reach them
until snatched by your hands
as you slam me beneath them.
Removed from myself.
Can't move by myself.
I look up amid danger
to see you in your anger
and still beg for some help
but I'm begging.......
.................. myself....


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

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