THE LAST ACTS OF THE DESPERATE The cold stench itch that continues to creep The torn skin leech marks inside the mind The claw flesh gouging burning the endings The dead nerve ache never reached, never found The acid wet back glances increasing with time The dripping reasoning in the covering of trails The rote of sounds redden to distort every space The multiplying corners rising to inhabit each telling The constant loss of breath in the lungs full of air The grasping fingers repeatedly, revisiting the scene The fever of silhouettes that crown every thought The crushing of arrogance as walls close in The drawing in of limbs hugged to the eyes The shadow grip slips, staggers and shrinks inside The plastered scared hands pointlessly point away The pleading lips bleed open palms to the rising sun of the day
Posted on: Sun, 11 Jan 2015 02:43:35 +0000
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