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A collaboration over too much coffee.
coffee and pen

31 March, 2005

Slow Rot

As time sinks its teeth into my veins
Slowly, like fever spreading through my bones
Moss gathers more moss
Memories of touch don’t anchor anymore
Just slips and slithers out of reach
Hollows fill with putrid fluid
Stagnant breeding spaces for insects
Who crawl out into the darkness of my body
And rejoice in their feast of rancid flesh

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1 Comments:

Blogger annie said...

There's something I like here - I'm not sure I can describe it yet - not in a hurry... but it's perhaps - the mixture of a soft 'voice' and very harsh words.

01 April, 2005 16:14  

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