among the lean and
narrow hours
when the brutal minutes
aggrieve
like the protruding ribs
of an emaciated animal

abandoned things shuffle
into dark unkempt little rooms
littered
with the manifested debris
of a life

unspoken thoughts
in rusted cans
stacked heedlessly
on overused shelving
bowing perilously under the weight

mangled hopes
kicked into the corners
stuck to the floor
foul and fetid
vitiated with wasted time

black mold
leaking from dilapidated hearts
creating pointillism art
across the sagging plaster
overhead

consuming an ersatz
Sistine Chapel ceiling

saints and angels
prophets and devils
sepia toned
in their water stain media
disappearing
into corruptions artistic virtuosity

only God remains visible
reaching out
to give life

if any are left
to receive it