2/8/21
ᴄᴡ: sᴀ
ticking stopwatch.
cooking clock.
burning room.
beep
ding
help.
the crust (was) white.
smothered;
between baking racks
bed and body
gasoline groans;
charring the soul of virtue.
stop
please
it burns
to inhale charcoal fumes.
smoke billows out of pores:
of butter
of salt
of potato mash;
climbing upwards
encircling
a halo
(of fueled high)
that the devil envies.
in its wake,
are tunnels.
garnished with ash.
voids in memory
voids in soul
voids in humanity.
YOU ARE READING
𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙳𝙾𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 ━━ 𝚄𝚗 𝙿𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎
Poetry𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚒 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔. (𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎) 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍: 2/8/21 ...
