My Possessions

Her yellow bones are burning

Her spinal cord is dusty broken

Her neck is ripe with tension, swollen

Bleaching fingers, soles starve, come frozen

Her blood is slow such vision blackened

Beat the heart jolt, nerve nervous bolting

While thoughts grow wild, grim, and weary

Drizzling, dampened, searching, blurry

Such dirty lungs, full blood wrought ragged scarring,

Guts find damage, t

ooth and stomach gnawing,

To see compeled, transfixed by mirrors' horror

Blank and empty, twin sockets eating sorrow

So lying still or writhing fits her carnage

Sleep again, wish this, tomorrow and tomorrow

She never hopes, so should the fool, the wraithe

Willful gaze down on decay, cut so the face

Buoyed, dimmed, thrust easily, her cave

A sanctum, pain finds comfort,

home, less effort forward grace

Safe in the deep, for she the fire save

And let her sweat, dirt, oil finally weep

And raise her burning bones, possessions, always, mine to keep.