A hand kissing the wall
Red rivers passing through
Lips still remain dead
A body empty of it's air
Contractions feed the flat line of spoiled beings
Walking on grounds took for granted
Soiled by devaluation
Leaving days untamend in circles
Shapless bones veiled in porcelain
Ligated in a hole
Never witnessing the colors of light
Left with a voice as bitter as envy
Words heist depth under
This greatly growing light
Choking back its brightness
Staining life with black
Ignoring each sweated breath
Eyes locked deep inside the vain gestures
Of a man who can taste the ticks of a clock
And spill his feathers in dust
Wrapping himself in black curtains
Painted shards of passing seasons
Foul breaths and fallen trees
Rusted dreams in a deep sleep