poem

Why won’t you

Melt

In my hand

Everything thought

Leads to

Everything that’s felt

Someone’s needing help



Mould soap was it there

Or do I uncomprehend

Or is it waiting for death

That’s creating the end

Why won’t I melt

Breath that I felt

Time that’s unspent


Why won’t I die

And you receive the pain I dealt

I’d like to see the unspoken people fry

Sinking feelings testify

To the dead’s fleeing thoughts

And the suicide survivors

Feeling fleeting felt



I would be dealing pain

No smiles in this plain I spy

Hushed and ranting in a panic

the thing you can’t feel

yet do they even try



so

why won’t you melt

when I stripped the skin away

the death I felt

was killing me  

and ripping me

the hanging rope

the man I made

he made this throat

so what’s feeling

anymore

is feeling spoke

the fleece I flee

a dead man’s yelp

why won’t

he just

ask for

help

and why returning

in a sehnsucht* yearning

alive

he never spoke



*Sehnsucht: German: longing