Relic
I come to you,
hands surrendered, open,
full of heavy wounds.
Oh the drips of precious life,
those you gather in your breath,
to nurse your blackened heart.
I say you are a civil servant,
You think I mean saviour.
Whatever you are,
it is a gateway,
a tightrope.
You cross unknown voids,
air does not move you.
It erodes you faster because you do not sway.
I have the idea to show you my gums,
as if this means I pose no threat.
Not sidetracked by pearly whites,
you tell me I reek of failure.
I find us hidden under floorboards,
swimming in dark pools of unknown fish.
No longer ignorant.
I push you into lofts of darkness,
you confront the monsters alone.
I knew they were there,
claws,
scratching through my ceiling.
I sought this hell,
this
oblivion,
now I am here,
there is no place like home.
Here,
the windows only open
when our eyes close.
Copyright © Gary Gene Linney | Year Posted 2015
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