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10/19/2016 11:04:45 AM

Terry Robinson
Posts: 49

Broken lungs sit idly by as the air no longer

drives through me on turbine wings.

And eyes rust over corneal layers

festering with swollen contempt

and grey-veined snarls.

Fallen muscle across macerated

fleshy mouth masks lost words

that become endangered species.

Whilst blood congeals within

this scorched corpus and pupils

become the blackend vessels

to my frozen soul.

The Sun stops its arc across the sky.

The sickle of the moon settles

upon my skin, cuts its way to my heart

and stops.

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