"morbus" poems
Nothing to prove
Or disprove
About yourself
Or to yourself
None of us
Have to
"Go to" anyone
And the idea
That we do is
A mental illness
We can't keep
Going to
Each other
Until we learn
To go to
Ourselves
Stop making
Our hatred of
Ourselves
Someone else's
Job
Aug 28, 2023
Aug 28, 2023 at 1:28 PM UTC
Lonely voices tear at me,
Sibilent whispering with no end.
Caress my collarbone,
Taste every inch of the skin.
Asinine bleeding, lost on me,
Raging fire inside my skull.
Corrupting and rusting
my being inside.
Beautiful afflictions **** the mind,
Rancid and fleeting, indiscriminate.
In nobis mortuus deambulatio,
Morbus animorum detracta.
Requiem lost among the dead,
Dreamers lose hope after drought,
Rectifying the overdose.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC