#bpdcycle
The frigid night air,
bites
into the backs, of my ankles.
Paralytic pain,
sinks...into ripping tendons,
like cool,
steely jaws.
The gaping maw,
awaits,
and it is raw, and hungry.
--
Bits of half-chewed sinew,
cling,
to its jagged teeth.
They pierce, abruptly
into nestled beds,
of drying,
crystalized nerves.
Everything, that is living tissue
is screaming,
in a symphony,
of choleric
agony,
beneath the whelm,
of a parasitic cold.
Yet, without even the benefit,
of a burial...
I, am dead.
I...
have died.
--
A fragile...
braggy peace,
paces...
in the overgrowth,
of my indifference.
It smashes down,
upon the painted tulips,
with grinding steps...
putting the weight, of the world,
on their happy, stillborn
bonneted heads.
There goes my cheerful demeanor;
only disquiet remains:
the depression, of witnessing depression...
the brutal crush, of the fetal blooms.
Jan 24
Jan 24, 2026 at 11:48 PM UTC