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Frayed

Seized at the seams
and unraveled;
visceral screams
echo for miles…

My crimson thread:
exhausted at last.

Essence

Flesh, gripping to alabaster bone,
blood, pumping to the metronome,
heart, the will that is our guide
soul, the truth that lies inside.

Terminal

Dirty little things/
inside me/
scratching at my belly/
eating my guts/
and soon – very soon – they’ll/
seep into my heart, brain, lungs/
enter my core and I’ll
die, shitting myself soon after.

Tryst

Silent fingers reaching,
eyes are all ablaze –
crowds are no deterrent;
read the answer in my
eyes to the question
that you don’t need to ask.