Punched.
His words, stirred
Aggressively making their home
Inside me,
As they always have,
Stitched in tight.
Vultures swirl, encircling
Eager to dig in...to...
The viscera.
Inky tendons, tightening
Flawed indelibly into view
An expulsion of pages
Dictating turmoil.
Throat rope tangled
Controlled fray, exudes
Blinded eyes that 'see'
"...bone dry words form
from twisted lips
come from
someone something strange
a throat deranged..."
We roam in tune best
At these distances We have known
From flurries to salty sea
~And anxious knots in time that rots~
Betwixt the Now and He.
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