by Mark

This poem is a shift from what i’m use to but sometimes you just get an idea and have to run with it. Hope you enjoy.

Sharpen the dull blade on your skin.
Till every swipe grafts off a piece
With hue medium rare ready
For the wolves to devour.
Inject heroin drips into the temple
With Lichtenberg blood
Circling the needle. Let it numb
You comfortably.
Have teeth clasp your nail
Right were the dirt grows
Bite hard till it clips off
Viewing the festering blister
With a smile.
Smolder off your prints,
To have no being, and
Be a battered bastered
Begging for your tongue
To be cindered by charred apples
Waiting for spite to codify
Your insides, as you let
The reaper scaphisms your chest.
After; look in the mirror, take a shot,
Spit on the floor, go to bed, wake up
And just keeping it moving.

– Mark