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Nov 2014
Her brain is a groaning throat.
Vibrating pipes.
Malevolence drips from her nostrils
like slowly sliding slime.  
Fever creeps through her reason,
sickening tissue to black.
Try licking the wounds
and the tongue turns to pus.
Her heart a ticking time bomb,
ready to explode into meaningless molecules.
Whimpering innocently oozes from
clear blue eyes.
The tears fall from your eyes.
Zach Claycomb
Written by
Zach Claycomb  Pennsylvania
(Pennsylvania)   
518
 
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