Sink From the Day

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Skinned to bare bones
I slowly
And fearfully descend

With shredded nerves
And their pulsating mantra
Of potent and vengeful remorse

Their harmonies flood
My straining eyes
Crimson, tired, and maimed

Filleted
To wafting blood ribbons
As I sink from the day
As silent wreckage
In this misty bog of grief

In Gilded Shackles

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Deliverance
Is a towering brute
The sharpest pillar
I aspire to claim

Yet resolve
Never fully blossoms
From the cavernous wounds
I shield each day

I am doomed to simmer
Beneath, the frothing tide
Instilled
With ghostly remorse

Forever they’ll loom
Boldened by fear
By the timidness
I foolishly carry

Before slopes of ivory
I’ll forevermore shudder
Swollen
In the binds of privilege

To Our Well-Earned Rest

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We were gleefully diminished
As the uproar passed
And the beads of triumph
Poured, in streams of haste

Happily overrun
By the yearnings
That prowled
Beneath our timid flesh

We sprawled in exhaustion
Ever-gradually carted
To our  homes
In the fog
Of well-earned rest

All
Before desire
Could lasso
Our dwindling forms
Once more

A Prowling Refrain of Death

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Surrender
Slipped away
From the shackles
Of their cold
And death-stricken lips

Adrift
With frayed resolve
In the fading gusts
Expunged
By the iron folds of sleep

Blood stained garbs
Lied singed and ragged
Blackened, by a fire-bred dusk

A tune that sailed along
Beyond
Their fallen forms

Full
With pitiless rage
Starved
For the flesh
Of docile prey to come