And there he sat
transfixed
with his head
cocked to the side
pressed against
his tense shoulder

His tight chin
cringed upward
shrieking for relief
while his gray mane
draped in the drool
draining from
his dead lips
curled into
the wrinkles of
his withered face

His obtruding veins
Splintered his fragile skin
Into fractured slivers
Like splitting sheets of ice
On a warming winter river
Each flake shriveled
As the blood receded
Fading each pastel color
Into shades of grey

His bushy eyebrows
protruded over
those murky, marbled eyes
with pupils like
creamy, black clouds
lingering faintly amidst
a midnight blue sky

But as he sat
Dead paralyzed
In an eternal lullaby
He still looked alive