Like snow laid upon the ground during winter solstice, I am bitted and biting. Scratching and fighting. Wrestling with two wolves on the white horizons for scraps. I've been in the woods; eating through my body. Fat first, then muscle, even bone. A spirit invoked breathes life back into my remains. Alone in the snow I remain. Against two wolves I prevail, skinned them for their pellets; great trophies indeed. Doe cadaver make mask on my back its spine. I am almost it, the bones. There's an ache in the pit of my stomach. Hunger. I eat, I conquer yet it's still there. After the wolves in the snow, feeding, feasting, and eating myself. Rain in the spring is the opposite of Frost in the winter. I'll devour you and me too. I wonder where I've gone and when did I go?
YOU ARE READING
Thyself
PoetryThis is going to be a log of my lyrical works along with the poems I make.
