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Jul 2011
My soul,
It rushes warmly
To the frozen ground.
For the lack of tension,
At my wrist,
Releases me.

My brain,
It Seeps onto
The welcoming floor.
For the gaping hole,
At my crown,
Saves me.

Click, Flick.
Push, Pull.

My only refrain
From continuing this discourse
Is your essence,
Nothing more.
Blaise Tyler Beach
Written by
Blaise Tyler Beach  M/Parma, Ohio
(M/Parma, Ohio)   
649
 
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