It's just poetry, it won't bite

Junkyard Heart


07.16.19 Posted in today's words by

Keyote Wolf is publishing here for the first time.

Junkyard Heart
By Keyote Wolf

Listening to you speak, I’m caught in the net of how I should feel,
A storm should cut through my veins and leave me
All thunder rumbling, heart: hot; all-a-boil,
But I only feel the void of emptiness
As you tongue tries to turn whip,
Then razor, then noose.
There is only an emptiness to these views.
You, who might tie a noose at the end of your tongue
To hold onto a word;
Have spoken nothingness into the aching belly of the day.
Does it matter about whose words fall;
Knowing, we are etching out
Humanity, spitting out skin and bones
Without chewing, first, the heart?
I’m all junkyard hour; fearful and
Steeling myself against the shake.
Your eyes speak dead-end streets,
Clashes, and collisions,
Even the smallest moment of violence is
Always someone’s final eclipse;
A moment, is a life cut,
Like: a throat, an artery, an eye, a heart.
There is no response to give,
As I cast my eyes, like dice away,
I have learned how these punches roll; and have learned
To move through the hits.
There is nothing to add
To this field of hollowness;
There is only moving through
The waves’ next crash,
Holding on
To the heart of silence.



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