Fractured Existence



Subordinate evil they label me
but I just laugh as powerful forces
twist me inside out and then back again.
An atrociously wicked ill-tempered
person passed me by without a glance thrown
my way in recognition, so I set
to follow him and relieve my boredom.
 
Shimmered notions slipped from his hair's wild way
as I drew closer and closer, his breath
released sing-song whispers that spoke of wet
insanity: fluttered wings; soaked despair,
I liked this mad character already
and knew that he was up to some mischief.
With a shrug of dead language I removed
myself from the body I occupied,
entered this new disturbed mind, for a laugh.
In the back of his thought I sat, watched
the manoeuvres; energetic reckless
energy which bled from his broken eyes.
 
He saw his victim and tensed with solid
anticipation's delightful beauty,
I could hardly believe that this intense
emotion was his, it felt like it was mine,
perhaps I had loaned him some in his dreams.
He was going to be bold, I felt it
in his skin's ripples; fear, adrenaline
that rushed across the oceans of desire.
 
He didn't even care who witnessed his
actions; dancing in his mind's bitter swirls.
With direct purpose he walked right over
the looks of passers-by, smiled viciously
at her surprised confusion and bit her,
people stuttered in silence before they
realised exactly what was going on,
then screams of shock peppered the fine airways.
Her jugular vein was in his mouth, well
mine really seeing as though I was here
for the ride within his chaotic bag.
 
Wonderful excitement rushed these senses
as she gurgled a pathetic attempt
of help to the crowd's cold creeping approach,
her life was a toy in his grip; shaken
as a dog would a tattered bloodstained rag,
I nearly pissed his pants with amusement,
but refrained from doing so, after all
I did have some standards though others would
think I'd none at all being who I am.
 
Someone became brave and dived in; attacked
this pleasure which coughed itself toward me,
I hit the pavement with a thud and rolled,
my face was his face; mangled with hate's tart
expression as I spat pieces of flesh,
it was then I heard the sirens; loud in
this head - it was time to let go I thought
so I jumped into the nearest person;
who was pummelling me, him, us to death.
Such fun to slip about humanity,
they have no idea I am amongst them
every day of their fractured existence.
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Submitted on August 13, 2010

Modified on March 05, 2023

2:12 min read
1

Quick analysis:

Scheme Text too long
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 2,333
Words 432
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 64

Ian Sawicki

Ian Sawicki has been writing poetry for over twenty years. He is a Manchester born poet, who has dedicated his life to exploration and composition of poetry. His work reflects the many great influential experiences of his life, the pain, the pleasure combined to create new exciting poetry. If anyone is interested in my books then please visit my lulu storefront. All artwork on these books is by my own hand. http://stores.lulu.com/chasingtheday more…

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