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 Nescher Pyscher
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 Nescher Pyscher
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by Nescher Pyscher  FollowFollow
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Nescher Pyscher grew up in the usual damaged, dysfunctional way of all poets; decided he needed to do something about it aside from whining to...read more all and sundry, and started stringing words together in pretty little phrases. Somewhere along the way he published The Dreams of Trees--available from Rio Norte Press on Kindle; Itchy Whispers--available from Trafford, and reams of really "interesting" poetry that he'd like to see get some light and wind.
More work by Nescher Pyscher:
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I devoted so much energy to you, to us.
I encapsulated all my grief, my pain, into tight little
nuggets of word; curse; blasphemy and hate.
     
I wanted you to die a million times, choking on my
tears, suffocating under the weight of my despair. I killed
you in my dreams and buried you in my fantasies and the years rolled
by, scarring me like a rock eroding in the wind.

And then . . .

And then . . .

and then the words ring hollow. I type and I scrawl.
I push for blood and slices of skin, but my son whimpers
in his sleep, reaches for his bear
and I remember that the spit taste of your kiss
doesn't linger on my lips anymore. The ashes of
your love--burned into my skin in whorls of tattoo and
drunkenly carved with knife and bottle--have blown
away on winds I dare call happy.

I can't be bothered with the memory of you. My son
is giggling in his sleep.

I can't be bothered with the memory of you. My son
is giggling in his sleep.

2 comments

Discussion

  2 years ago
I agree with Leopold. It was painful to read. My heart cried.
  2 years ago
This is a painful one to read.
 

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