Wicked Ricochet


Photo Credit: CaraMcGuireStudios at deviantart.com

The words
rake my throat
as they ricochet
out of my mouth,

spit here
onto wicked white screens,
plastered to
the straining eyeballs
of those who try to see me.

Shouts echo
through empty halls,

through full minds
smothered in lines
made from blood
and angst
and love,

and I’m in the dark
but I feel all of these hands
all over me,
touching me with eyes
that feel like fingers

and I am
torn and healed
at once
because of
ears and eyes,
strangers who listen

because you won’t.




7 thoughts on “Wicked Ricochet

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