Do Not Confront Me With My Abrasions

Pry upon this open wound
and sift through this desiccation,
unravel the broken bones
under this cobwebbed mausoleum
because I stride without perditions
when I leave my deaths alone
and I tend to sunder my vision
amidst the parliament of diversions

Exhume the bereaved words
trapped inside the diffidence and
misconstrued for the feigned confidence
reconnoiter my seas and abysses and
calculate my metronome's mendaciloquence
because in this fringeless chasm,
I walk away in squalor by becoming
one amongst the nondescript population

Oppressed by the savageness, scathed
in the veneer and the viscera,
my bleak surrender wallows through
the sanguinary banality and
painfully masquerades consciously
So if you'll ever find me here
and mar my perfect putrefaction
do not confront me with my abrasions
because I have not forgotten them

poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!