No Contact

My words are wanted for dirty, dark-red murder
corroded arteries, cancerous thoughts
Metaphoric martyrdom
Or post-tragic stardom?
As illiterate as this understanding is-
wholly unethical in every anticipated way
why am I so goddamn

without ever tasting blood?

Without you leading me, my own two shaky legs must suffice
At a crossroads and the thought stings me,
which direction do I turn?
With all of three senses-

I can’t distinguish whether I am blindfolded or ear-muffed
Neither matter though.because either way I suspect it,
I’m still,
-Unable to hear you.
-Unable to let you hear me.

And no metaphor will fix this.


About hannahjustine

This is my life story. Don't expect for me to entirely spill the beans on everything, but my life is certainly a sloppy recipe of writing, research, realizations and love. Basically, I'm learning as I go. I strive to positively impact my community, my sphere of influence. I believe that this happens only through living your life to the fullest! View all posts by hannahjustine

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: