A Visit To Dr. Frankenstein

I'm not in the best of moods.

Although as a "writer" that doesn't mean there is no reason to write. The challenge is always to write no matter what the mood - good or bad.

This is more of a bullet poem and is probably too cryptic for the outside reader. Nevertheless, this site is about expression and so it is.

There is a strong swear word it but there is a reason for the word appearing.

Frankenstein’s Monster
For mom

No heavy steel stitches or stormy night,
nor a green complexion like rotting pea soup.
No exclamation of ecstatic joy
or thunderous applause

only a yellow bundle frail as new born steps
dropped from a cunt to be
chopped like butcher’s meat
by no more than faceless card,
a speechless present and
three blades slid off the tongue.

Here, black stitches on white lines
the last beats refuse to die.
Frankenstein’s monster lives

Though knows not why.