Tags

, , ,

As it closes its grips
around my empty body,
the binding deception
of the sliver and twine
illudes me along my way
as I hold on, tightening
my grasp of each parchment
each bit of scrap, every
fragment and whisper
the voice I shout with
infuriated

That is not death, but
this loss beyond, as 
it is permanent in life
I could run up mountains once
but not anymore
therefore
I know myself not
not anymore
Advertisements