Full Moon (Poetry)

philistines-jpglarge

Unravel: as they come

Horses

Drums

A funeral march

 

A coffin, a hammer

A nail and a kiss

A sip from a poisoned chalice

 

Why,

Do I put myself through this?

I am trapped and isolated

Four white walls enclose me,

Vibrating with an ever quickening pulse;

The floors catch my menses

And the tear that refuses to fall

 

I am tired, black death

I am a specter without a name

Floating amongst the living:

Listless among the dead

***

Painting by Jean-Michel Basquiat, words by Teegee Villanueva

 

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