spindled limbs and candied swans
matchbox weighed in heavy tons
pull from end to end
holy ghost and his motive for sin
it is as if i were ten feet tall
and you were a wasp on a tree
sting me for all i'm worth
i am only free
you brought the colossus of being
torn made and seething
let me carve at your skin
and hold your fragile teeth
only doses of the last goodbye
encrypt my lungs like steam
keep these strands like confetti
scars on my skin like thorns
YOU ARE READING
if not human
Poetrythe anthology of emotion, the passing of life, the epilogue of pure, unfiltered regret this is "if not human" poems, prose and stories from the dark
