“Two Feet in Different Rooms”
(UNFINISHED, of course.)
Dusty graves
Sway like waves
Cobwebbed, riddled with
Spiders exploding on externals
Intestines graze the flesh
Leaving perpetual scars that taunt
Resurrection would be a curse
Thorns flatlined, thickly veiled in a sheath of
Seeds in the grains remain
With a bitter residue, without the sting
Salvage sedation, spare the hovering apparitions
Scramble for pressure point
Let only warm drops tinge hearts with ecstasy
Ice is what keeps first and second hands clicking
Smothered amid the gravel that lines the headstones
Toes creep toward waxed, glossy spirals
A glittering abyss, waver in and out like flowing leg hairs
Strings dangle mockingly from shoulders like a noose
No comments:
Post a Comment