Tuesday, February 16, 2010

ENG 332: Workshop B: Form Poem

I can't do form to save my life. Poetry so isn't my bag of win but I am good at prose and that's a form. lol.

Exes and Ohs
By Navil Gomez

She’d whisper words like razorblades against wrists while her hands searched in places only socially-accepted to be molested by medical professionals. She’d scrape her nails along my skin until it gave way to crimson, lapping away at the tiny cuts like a child to it’s first taste. Her canines would pierce the deepest into my flesh, branding me with her tongue and spit, only centimeters away from becoming a cannibal. You could call it love but I like to think it was possession that kept me underneath, convulsing in whimpers, little gasps, tiny protests of
“stop it”.

1 comment: