Leather and wood in my house;
crunch a crying carrot
amidst the bones and souls
of the once-alive.
Watch my cat
eat a box-elder bug
with a broken leg
even though it crawled on my journal,
which was its way of asking
for help.
Don’t think about the
fingers who stitched together
your t-shirt,
sweltering in the healing sunlight,
forcing their glorious eyes to
quiet. Mercy.
Use death and
death and
death
to animate your ruthless
heart,
and levitate
your peaking breath.
This is lovely. Beautifully composed poem.
This is fabulous! ❤
Thanks, lovely!
You’re quite welcome beauty!
From the book?
No, those ones’ll stay offline now 🙂
Tease
You wouldn’t have me any other way
True. But that doesn’t make it right 😉
😇
This is great
So are you
death appears to have many uses