ENSANGUINED
feel your serpentine skin as it clutches the wind,
ruptures the wind
a schism, that prison you once
called a friend.
there is dirt behind your eyes,
bones beneath the dirt;
twist and crush and break them
until all you know is hurt.
but still, your vision's foggy
like an ancient epitaph
you tried so hard to warn me of
the many lives you've claimed,
but my ears were clogged with blood
memento mori, keep me sane—
YOU ARE READING
rigor mortis
Poetry"a summer calm laid its soothing hand over everything, like death." - sylvia plath © dreamsuckle 2021
