- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Motionless
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Try as I might
Oh so real is my fright.
This lingering cold
Is like moss on mold.
But the longer I try
The more I fry.
I’m tired of hurting
I’m tired of pleading.
This time I’ve spent
Motionless and bleeding.
It all seems so unreal
Like a priest and his zeal.
This pain is pure and raw
Hellish in its clarity
So deformed in its claw
There’s more to life
Or so I’m told…
But no longer am I vigorous or bold.
I’m tired of hurting
I’m tired of pleading
This time I’ve spent
Motionless and bleeding
It all seems so…
Real!
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