deepundergroundpoetry.com

of talons that scrape the tallow

only  
it was his chest
 
fallen off
the precipice  
that is life
 
sometimes it is just not  
worth
it
 
locked gazes
and rock faces
judging  
all that moves

beyond whispers
of conscience
heard  
are sometimes
the breaths
 
deep sighs
closed eyes
rock hard fists
walk ...
 
and then
the bare back
wearing concentric circles
feast for the sandflies
 
 
forgetting the purpose
or diving in
too deep
he'll never know
 
 
.
 
 
 
 
Written by cold_fusion
Published
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