Poetry Blog by Kath Hewitt

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red rage rising

dead black falling

skin scraped clean and

scant bones crawling

eyes are bleeding

ears not hearing

mouth sewn shut and

fingers pleading

dripping life-drops

broken limbs flop

love it when the

beating heart stops.

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Switch on the dark,
it's the right place to be.
Embraced in the black
that's reflected in me.
I can stop.
Stop with the thinking,
the feeling of sinking,
the sense that the whole world
around me is shrinking,
I am not.
Ignoring the noises,
not listening to voices,
denying my choices,
I am done.

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