My Fading Lasher
Fortunes spread an open tie.
He is bleeding.
His lungs will die.
His legs will give,
His face will fail.
His eyes,
Decrepit,
Once were real.
He'll lie at rest,
Drunk with a disturbed damnation
Blooming in his mouth.
Approachable,
For I too bloomed there.
Copyright © Samantha Mcdougal | Year Posted 2006
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