this is my trauma process. i stare at it. i drink with it. i allow it to consume me. then i vomit it from every pore and lap it up again.

everyone leaves. in silence their song. 

‘in my head’

i still lack the suitabilities

of physical science

my eyes of opal fire,

conversations rich in

distant ink abyss.

i pity the child

this small boy within,

who as phenomenons go

has yet vanished;

for him every straight line

magnetized in terror,

every moment a resurrection 

of atrophy:

who will leave now

in what manner

and how silently?

an open mouth 

begins a journey.

the mirror,

a sentence of death.

*

‘DEAD BIRD’ ON SALE AT AMAZON! 

*

#barflypoet

#josephapinto

© Joseph A. Pinto

*

Poetry served raw and unedited from the moment crafted.

The large majority of my poetry handcrafted from inside bars.

*

'dead bird,' 'From My Front Steps,' 'Scotch and Scars' and 'A Distilled Spirit' poetry collections available in paperback and ebook on Amazon.

*

www.etsy.com/shop/JosephPinto