Dripping


Dripping, dripping, dripping…

It’s falling faster than my eyes can move.
It’s hitting the floor with a hollow thunk,
as though it knew its purpose was to swallow
all other sound in its sickening descent.
Thunk, dripping, thunk, dripping…

It’s creeping along to the tips of my toes,
blurring the floor indiscriminately.
Seeking out crevices to hide in,
and things to block its liquid pool.
Creep, dripping, creep, dripping…

It’s smiling at me, black thoughts
swimming in its darkened depths,
and I can see myself so broken
in its slinking, molding form.
Twitch, dripping, twitch, dripping…

My salt is falling into its ravenous lip;
It’s sucking the life in as it’s folding itself out.
I’m motionless in its clutches,
my toes stained from its poisonous kiss.
Slurp, dripping, slurp, dripping…

I’m standing in your eyes, in your heart, in your blood,
And still it’s dripping, not so silent as you seem to be.
I’m looking at your pain, your pleasure, your bleeding wrists,
And still it swallows everything your lips have left foresaken.
I’m looking at your dreams, your hopes, they’re falling from the tub onto the floor,
And still my toes are kissing who you once were,
And still my eyes are falling into the depths of your disease,
And still it smiles as I look into my shifting, lifeless reflection.

Dripping, dripping, dripping…


– Tegan Simmons 11/24/05

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