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331 · Jul 2018
celeste fuma Jul 2018
blue lilies
now;wilted and zapped
petals of hibiscuses;
frosting and drooping
pressed between our pages
stenching and staining
them edges

the flesh stenches
the putrid blooms
carve squealing wounds
the blood engulfs the heart
that deliquesces

the crevices are graved
then the heart deliquesces
and falls into two
down/a rotting corpse
it oozes into

the disgust of existence
creeping through shredded layers
of shroud
covering the withering bones,

it melts eventually-the shroud
until it reaches the bones
crashes them there
spilling the liquids/
all that is left bare
is already atrophying

and i guess that's the difference between dying and rotting
dying at least leaves you
the voids to hold onto
to be nostalgic for what was held
dying-paints,hues from the ashes that blew

but rotting
eats away all that existed
and snaps leaving
odor that i need  

the craft of us
all worn out
the fragments dis plumed through holocausts
the rebellion in ruination  
and the twitched cold feet
each breath i've took,now smothering
you,me,and everything

the reflections,contradictions
intoxicating,caging charcoal abstracts
punctured and ruptured
all constituents consuming and decaying now
every treble
so heavy

freezing not frozen
perishing not lighter

maybe these moments
-they never stop
cause right there in the midst
everything rots.
-/and we let it

291 · Oct 2018
celeste fuma Oct 2018
Framing and distorting
My esteem
Cutting and slitting
Taut and drained veins
/Bluing my blues
Now this nadir lacks newness /
Little pinpricks
At that distant road
Marking human moments
And seafret telling me to breathe
For once i do, i breathe
i breathe through this blizzarding wind
i breathe through the lava thats frozen
i breathe beside the monster -me
i breathe in this wrecked home - me
i breathe with this taped skeleton
i breathe with my fluorescent lungs
i breathe, standing on the higway amidst this commotion i breathe,
i breathe as the fast wheels drive past me,i breathe after so long and
then i exhale the breath,
like i never existed, i dissolve.
Atleast i seek to.

283 · Jun 2018
celeste fuma Jun 2018
And we trod paths
crushing detritus
of heart prints
that yet remain//

— The End —