(a sonnet)  
A plague of fetid blood so I’ve become
Who vomits only bile and drywall dust
In horrid little squares whose added sum
Is so much sewer pipe and iron rust      

A blood that has no purpose left to serve
But poison heart that nothing should remain
A black oil crust that’s shredding every nerve
Like shards of ground glass coursing through my brain      

I wish that I could open veins and smear
Cute rounded flowers everywhere I see
But even then would square on square appear
My blood coagulates in squares of scree

To vomit bloody squares is all I can
Which takes me back to where my shit began.
Author's Note
A viewing of my abilities in formula poems in a world where free verse is the norm... or normal. Inspired by another poets shortening of my user name to "Hep C."
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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