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Literature Text
You were a scavenger of other worlds
I was an ember, recoiling in my corner
My reflection smoldering in your pupils
your fingers twitched at the prospect of
holding, caressing
gripping and gritting
my black-red exoskeleton singing
your soft human flesh
There was a pile of ash around me
I had none other with me
I stared straight ahead
I never looked at you.
You were a scavenger of other worlds
I am a dying star of my own galaxy
your eyes starred as I sparkled
your mouth watered as your nerves piqued
for your imagination is far too active
too alert
too ready to taste the possibilities
too eager.
The minute your greedy hands grabbed me,
I turned to water.
Cold blue staring back at you,
you were pallid, Scavenger.
You were stone.
I was an ember, recoiling in my corner
My reflection smoldering in your pupils
your fingers twitched at the prospect of
holding, caressing
gripping and gritting
my black-red exoskeleton singing
your soft human flesh
There was a pile of ash around me
I had none other with me
I stared straight ahead
I never looked at you.
You were a scavenger of other worlds
I am a dying star of my own galaxy
your eyes starred as I sparkled
your mouth watered as your nerves piqued
for your imagination is far too active
too alert
too ready to taste the possibilities
too eager.
The minute your greedy hands grabbed me,
I turned to water.
Cold blue staring back at you,
you were pallid, Scavenger.
You were stone.
Suggested Collections
Yes, I am aiming to write a poem a day.
Yes, these are all technically rough drafts so far.
However, for the time being, I consider them whole--their roughness and lack of refinement reflect the state in which I presently find myself. I've just come out of a writer's block lasting almost a decade. I'm trying to rediscover myself as a writer.
I'm having a difficult time thinking of how to explain what brought about this poem, but I will try. It was inspired by my relationship with my ex. It's attempting to describe two states of being and how they clash. I am the "Gorgon," uncomprehending, lost within myself, blind, difficult. My ex (obviously) represents the Scavenger. Someone who sees some remarkable quality about me, however my own self-absorbed nature prevents her from fully "having" me, from any relationship in which true depth of understanding can be achieved. She, on the other hand, is endlessly seeking, pursuing her territory to find what can "complete" her, so to speak. Her attempts to pursue me despite this clash innate to our dynamic transform me, yet stagnate her.
Yes, these are all technically rough drafts so far.
However, for the time being, I consider them whole--their roughness and lack of refinement reflect the state in which I presently find myself. I've just come out of a writer's block lasting almost a decade. I'm trying to rediscover myself as a writer.
I'm having a difficult time thinking of how to explain what brought about this poem, but I will try. It was inspired by my relationship with my ex. It's attempting to describe two states of being and how they clash. I am the "Gorgon," uncomprehending, lost within myself, blind, difficult. My ex (obviously) represents the Scavenger. Someone who sees some remarkable quality about me, however my own self-absorbed nature prevents her from fully "having" me, from any relationship in which true depth of understanding can be achieved. She, on the other hand, is endlessly seeking, pursuing her territory to find what can "complete" her, so to speak. Her attempts to pursue me despite this clash innate to our dynamic transform me, yet stagnate her.
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Comments2
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Wonderful story. The imagery flows perfect and I love the fantasy aspect you bring to real life.