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Age
And the not
Dead yet
Talk to me.

They speak
About
Living
And the
Long
Dead.

Where am I?
.
I hear my hair growing,
my being dancing,
like a candle flame,
black, illuminating nothing.

I smell my heart beating,
my mind flickering
like a promiscuous eye,
invitingly void and delicious.

I ******* stomach churning,
my moods changing,
like a pupating monster,
waiting in the pitch dark.


© Pagan Paul (26/12/17)
.
He is the darkest memory
Buried inside, beneath all this skin
Causing a chemical imbalance
Gnawing at my every *****...
We dance when I sleep
Spinning circles around the ballroom in my head
A fantasy he uses to distract me
Gripping me, twisting me, until I am dead
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