Body’s raw wound

The dark moon shadow stalks me down,
Its dust bags of light scar me;
In a touch, flesh, bone, blood quickens,
I pick off the worms, drunk from a lick.
I walk the night, haggard through the
White street lamps, singeing filaments
Cataract my eyes. Obscure vision

Corkscrewing down storm drains. And the
Shadow, like a black wolf, each paw on
Me a brier; my doom consummates a bodily need;
It snares me, hungry, hungry. It eats
To satisfy a need, I am gutted to an undertaker.
Blood floods to a spot, purple; the rest of me
Is whitewash board, stiff as I crawl down a sidewalk.

Its tread is a weighted enemy, my heart shuts,
It peels me like linen; its breath anesthetizes and shoves
Me into a bad dream. It feels like hell;
Charred and ravened in snarled thickets of ash.
I disappoint them, I pray for a heaven,
To a god. This earth I rise from, let my soul writhe in like dew.
I am stepping from this skin, featureless into eternity.

Copyright © 08/14/18 lance sheridan®

Body's raw wound

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20 comments on “Body’s raw wound

  1. floweringink, thank you. I’m glad I found yours! Your work is extraordinary!

  2. Dorianna says:

    Both image and words are amazing

  3. Good afternoon, Susan. I would be honored, thank you sincerely!

  4. Lona Gynt says:

    Lance, I have featured m recent review on my latest post. Oh how I love your stuff.

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