Wednesday, April 27, 2016

A Dead Man's Game

Racked and riddled
Engulfed and infectious
Leeches sputter and descend
Full of my own decay

Rot falls to a vulture’s feed
These maggots brace the light
A dismal diamond design
Hanging on my ends

I’m the corpse of my own shadow
The breath of a hitman at my bedpost
Betting on my mortality
Dice rolling on the beat of a throb

We all eat our own disease
The vice of a stranger
Cradling the weight of happiness
In the clutch of a dream

We are laughing insanity
Breaking bones on the backs of revolutions
We don’t cocoon to take flight
We bury the dead in closets
Our skeletons in sheath

We are cancer

Careening forward

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