Last Minutes
Broken lungs lay siezed as the air no longer
drives through me on turbine wings.
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, travels its way to my heart
and cuts.
Copyright © Terry Robinson | Year Posted 2016
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