#734 - wounded

 

5.i.22

734

3.5

wounded

 

half drowned

slightly on fire

run round like chook didn’t quite get across

too many knives for just the one back

heart like a dartboard too

throat a little slit, for effect

did I mention the jugular?

broken on the wheel

treadmill kneecapped too

whited out like in the old days, gaslit

into a corner and dunce’s cap

my own words crammed in craw

burned at the stake, but rare

drawn, quartered, flaming entrails as well

shouted down, shoved about

neck to strop a guillotine

or hanged less cleanly

still kicking a bit

head bitten off, chewed, spat out

 

thrown to the lions, the wolves

hunted by a hungry hyena

piranhas from the ankle up

 

huh!  is that all you’ve got?

 

then there are the existential threats

someone or something assails me with doubts

 

there is mortality – they’re forming up a queue

just where my luck runs out

 

ideas crushed

life choked

stage all corpse strewn

 

do I exaggerate at all?  

 

left for dead

I know it’s nothing personal

that you – schadenfreudster – shall namelessly remain

proud of all you’ve done

 

there’s no one smooths the dying pillow

never say die!

 

nor should I fail to mention

that the ghost will never give up