Drive the wooden spike

deep into my chest.

Propel the silver bullet

through my heart.

Hold the crucifix

in between us.

Drop repeated meds

into my veins.

This psychosis

is permanent.


About John White

I've written off and on my entire life. It took years for me to finally take putting words together seriously. Now it's not, nor does it ever feel, like work. Writing daily has become habitual. No day is complete without words having appeared on the page.

Posted on November 14, 2014, in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Surely, Somewhere there is a silver lining lurking in all these dark clouds.

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