literature

Clouds/Clout/Shout/Doubt/Out

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Literature Text

Clouds/Clout/Shout/Doubt/Out


i’m weak from monday to sunday
muscles weary every day of the
week-week-week, i can barely hold
the son and the father on my chest
because to wear the crest-cross
is to promise faith lest openness
to thought of it being nonexistent
but struggling with my own existence
how can one believe an invisible spirit?

admittedly a ghost,
the hole eats me open
leaving holes in my soul
old rolls folds over this hold
on my notes, cold coal
clouds leaving doubt of
cacophony storms in my clout.
i want out because my mouth
is incapable of screams,
incapable of shouts
shot from the rooftop,
i drop into the hole
as the hold leaves holes
in my body.

i’m weak from sunday to eternity
and i don’t care what day
starts the beginning
(of the end) of the weak
my muscles deteriorate
at any start of any week
known to humanity
and i’m destined
to become a holy ghost
and maybe
i’ll finally get that super power
of invisibility.

Comments18
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ithaswhatitisnt's avatar
The title is what caught my eye, and the poem took my breath away. :love: