Mark R Slaughter


Den - Poem by Mark R Slaughter

Brain walls: bio-insulation keeps me cosy
in my hidden room.

Eye balls: bio-windows let me peer and sneer
upon our filthy race, with

Ear holes – bio-microphones – assuming tones
I only wish to face.

Inside, I flit between assimilation,
fantasy, and desperation – each another room
for me to occupy –

as in a nest or burrow, a honeycombed hive –
fathoming which to best survive in;
harbour me from that outside.
Shit! It’s just as bad in here –
I need another den to hide in!

So where’s a niche to keep me from the world,
but also from my rabid head?
Yes, of course –! it’s being dead.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010










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Comments about Den by Mark R Slaughter

  • Silver Star - 3,735 Points Diane Hine (3/18/2012 1:22:00 AM)

    A difficult subject to tackle in a poem, this is very insightful. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, November 1, 2010

Poem Edited: Sunday, May 8, 2011