Time lies when it says it heals
does it not?
Base, vile… it creeps on
sowing seeds
of discontent
hidden in chafe
of fading memory
I remember the touch
soft, exploratory
of the blade
over my body
but response is polluted
lost in the white noise
that electrifies
and equally stills
the cascade of my thoughts
They are bright
and dark
sharp like knives
that know
ah how well they know
the taste of me
Time, cruel beast
only watches
the stilling struggles
of the overwhelmed
So what bite of words
might I give
as the unmarred
speak of healing time?
No words
for they founder
impotent, wounded
stuttering into the void
lost in what is left
what little there may ever be
left of me.


© W.R.R. 7/2/2011

About W.R.R.

Bipolar & survivor of incest/child sex abuse and adult male rape; bisexual, polyamorist, poet/writer/advocate & married father of four. View all posts by W.R.R.

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