Setting fire to paper every hour
So that your lungs can harbour resentment
A symbol of beginnings and endings
Drifting clouds of smoke
Burning this moment into ash
A cemetery of butt ends
To remind you that your lungs are black
death
Sunday wordle 314
There is a gust of wind
Trifling through these rivers of blood
And for a moment I hesitate
I sense I might be too late
Can’t protect you
From the hammer about to fall
So I guess we’ll
Have one epic night
Before the curtains call
Flies
The flies buzz
In this oppressive heat
Not a care for your defeat
Flying above your head
Caring none for the bleak of your heart
They’re flying in the face of dark
Their buzz as if a laugh
Upon you, lying on your back
Trying to be dead
The flies were a glimmer of hope
It was true, you had begun the end
But even death disappoints
At this hour, my friend
To the little field mouse, I named Stuart
Stuart, you little furry bastard
With jovial whiskers
And little heart beat whispers
On the blessed night, you weren’t heard
With your whimpers
Now left as food for the owl’s claws
To rip you from flesh
Your death now sustenance
To keep that owl breathing breath
Rest in peace
You furry little squeak
Wanting death when there is no release
I’m terrified I’ll want to die
When the news travels down
The grapevine
I’ve been to that place
I’ve had my neck in the rope
I’m scared I’ll still fight
Against my own conscious will
When it comes to the kill.
Doubt
Kissing smoke
With blue breath
As the moist air
Steals us from death
Mumbling with doubt
Replenished with that quivering lip
Biting back feverish wit
Lest we say the wrong thing
Hospital
I almost hesitate
Now that I’m in this place
All the sick faces
Looking at me
I just want to run away
“Why are you putting yourself through this?”
I know I’ve been waiting for years
And I don’t want to go back
But I don’t really want to be here
I just want to leap straight
To the aftermath
With out all of these medicated plans
I’m tired from barely sleeping
Thinking about it
Wondering if I can make it through this
Feel like I’ve walked under another dark tunnel
And I can’t yet see the end
There are lights on the ceiling
But that all seems meaningless
They’re dully lit anyway
And the faces around me look like ghosts
Reminding me this is a place where souls come to go
