underage and drawing the dead
light and scared
to tease the blood
but soon it slides out
slips from the soft pencil
grating on old scars
heavy bass
and percussion your
hands can't take
chest buzzing
lungs slit again
with the intangible tar
floating
heavily drifting
down your throat
the blood from your paper
the smell like rotting
jaw click and teeth sting
underage
and drawing the dead
light and scared
to tease the blood
born violent
born vicious and addicted
self destruction like an art
preservation of others
preservation of a masterpiece
underage
and drawing the dead
YOU ARE READING
Inkmouth
Poetryin the plethora of pornography options for the modern saint [Poetry #51] [2015]
