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Chris G Vaillancourt

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· Member Since: Sep, 2012

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Recent poems by Chris G Vaillancourt
•  Sunrise Like Sunset Dance Playfully Through Me
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•  Autumn, It Begins But I'm Wanting It To End
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           >> View all 12
 
Fields of Dead Wood
by Chris G Vaillancourt
Friday, September 14, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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 Fields of dead wood lie like 

bleeding temples in the maze. 
We talk of many nothings. 

The sound of your voice is glass, 
shrill and brittle. 

Accusations and false charges. 
Impossibilities. 

At my request 
you flower the sidewalk 
with my fingernails. 

I've ripped them 
out 
for you. 

Supplied the pain 
to prove my surrender. 

Talking, you plan 
my future 
and 
disregard my wishes. 

The sound of bells 
that are ringing like 
insane lizards 
impaled on sticks. 

 

 

As they die, 
I bleed with them.

 

 

 

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