A seraphim's self-induced chemical haze
The backbone of the drumbeat
As the spinal c(h)ord beats a soft tattoo
The rhythm chronic, neurotic
Burrowing insistently into her dazed head.
A catch in the throat
And a cold, resisting lump
Deep in the center of the chest.
A heavy, intoxicating weariness settles over the skin
In a sticky, noxious film
Sinking and crawling its way into the marrow.
Each heartbeat lasts longer and longer
As the blood cools
And every limb is slowly transmuted
Into hardening clay.
Tiny veins of ink spiderweb the whites of the eyes
As her brain begins to sublime.
Infiltration, yes
The insidious invaders have inserted themselves
Into every fiber
Every vessel
Every microscopic pore.
Infection, yes.
But don't call it a disease.
She has become a stony effigy
To those who cannot
Will not
Should not resist
Letting go
Giving up
Giving in.
A one-shot chance at attaining nirvana.
And if you miss...
What, really, have you lost?
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2 comments:
This is really good. I love how it ends with a bang-I can never get my poems to do that.
(This is EKP, BTW)
Thanks =]
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