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Jun 2016
They left skeletons in their closets
that are crawling out and into their ash rotten skin.
Inked in lies they never meant,
I can still smell their smoke in the mountains.
Crawling through the suburban streets.
Can you hear me?
Where are your screams?
Silenced in nicotine and poetic beats?
Your hymns are drowning the blackened skies that you use to light those eyes
and your sin is still soaking in those mirrors.
I’m not sure what we should be more afraid of,
the demons writhing in my head?
Or the ones rolling in your bed?

As abandoned psych wards ring with a generations penance-
as corpses pledge their grace to the living-
watching their breath fold into the highways, the hilltops, the sewers devour them. Contracting their waves through the disembodies minds.
Where is your savior?
Where is your king?
They spilt blood at your feet!
And you weren’t even listening.
Jess
Written by
Jess
245
   Dana Colgan
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