Poetry Blog by Sophie Morley
Devon Brock on Lump in my throat (Sun, 30 Jun 2019 10:20 pm)
When I join in you become serious.
Why aren’t you laughing anymore?
How can you see lust
in my eyes when it’s your clothes on the floor?
Dude youre delirious: it is just,
of your abyss and your obsession.
Why are those words suddenly dirty?
It’s not a joke coming from me?
Being polite is an open invite.
It’s a verbal contract;
by being flirty
Monday 21st October 2019 8:32 pm
I can't move or
that itchy buzzing
than a corpse.
Wednesday 10th July 2019 1:24 pm
It is a wicked smile they wear
as they watch the wolves wilt,
as at their flesh they tear
and accesorise with their pelt.
So they squirm and writhe,
ugly in their agony:
because in order to survive,
they surrender their dignity.
They howl at the moon,
and catch their reflections,
at the mercy of women.
So they degrade its subjects,
to the level of mere objects....
Tuesday 9th July 2019 10:32 pm
I'm hugging the sun,
embracing its rays.
The window is open,
wind strokes me in waves.
Outside noise is numbed,
by the rushing and pulsing:
the only sound to be heard,
is of our hearts beating and lips parting.
down the panes of the glass,
its mist blankets us,
from any memory of the past.
In fact: it feels as though,
we are in a womb,...
Saturday 6th July 2019 9:09 pm
This is about the guy who groomed me so language feedback would be 'really appreciated:)
In the sauna
I was an open wound.
My skin was anger:
sore and raw and
I'd be feverish,
The constant craving for salt,
was provoked by me,
so it was 'all my fault'
he was so thirsty.
He'd tear me apart...
Sunday 30th June 2019 6:44 pm
White noise is the cloak my mind wears
to protect me from its darkness.
I'm always elsewhere,
In a place of emptiness.
Tuesday 25th June 2019 3:23 pm
I’m wrapped in cling film I’m sure of it:
paralysed and mute, I feel it;
Monday 24th June 2019 2:27 pm
I’ll be sanded away from the inside out,
hollowed, seared, and crushed.
I can only relieve the heaviness
and only by breaking the glass.
Monday 24th June 2019 2:25 pm
Desperate for your mind to be intertwined with mine,
I writhe and thrash into your seductions.
By being intimate we are lying:
pretending to have reached a resolution
-when really all I can feel is acute stinging
of my body and emotions.
Without engaging your feelings,
all I feel is friction;
down: your sciroccian winds are rasping
my spirit and global expectations.
Monday 24th June 2019 2:20 pm
Out of focus there is nothing.
But he needles his way in.
And his warmth spreads,
and his essence flows and ebbs
in my mind and in my smile and in my bed.
He’s the cerebrospinal fluid
that floods my skull,
and all my cracks until I’m full.
Finally: a flash of his face and flesh;
vivid, quick, and then death.
Monday 24th June 2019 2:07 pm