Comfort

I am dying.

Jaws draws loose.
Spirit barely reeks
through the void of
partly parted
chapped lips.


Train track cracks
like dried up crust
bleeding magma
infinitely at the
end of the world.


Whistling wearily,
the aged cage
creaks drearily.
Hope hooded
over eerily.
Dark rings main
and spread
But cannot see.


I am dying.


There is almost nothing left to be.
I, like everything else, taken apart.
Piece by Piece. Priceless but sold. N
o instruction manual to construct a pigs heart.


Hunched hiding over there,
bunched up stringy greasy hair.
Fat. Desperately bloated beyond repair.
What idiot said that life was fair?


But I am smiling.


As I escape the lies.
Honestly I really did try.
Cataplectic as, at last, I defy
the whole fucking lot of them.
I am smiling and dying
and at last I will be free.


I will be free.


Poetry by iRate
ACTIVIST. MUSICIAN. WRITER.
iRate Board – iRate Images – iRate Music – iRate Networking – iRate Space – iRate Tumblr  – iRate TV – iRate Twitter


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