Words We Cannot Speak

Growing death

Molecule by molecule,
The plague rips through me in drips of blood from sacrificed minds,
And i am bleeding in torrents of mindlessness.

Each second
Is less important that the penultimate
As tomorrow is worse than yesterday, is worse than today.

My hand touches skin, touches earth
But I am only here in person;
Everything is moving in slow motion
Apart from time itself
And I am sprinting, legs striding
But moving ever slowly backwards.

To reach out and grab your hand
Is a selfish act
And it is encouraged
But little do you know
Of where you could end up;
The uncertainty of dragged back through time and space has a twisted appeal
Until you discover what it means.

Fingers shaking
When you look at them,
It's a delusion, illusion
And persuasion is colourless, not an apple or a snake,
For one look and I am gone.

Veins carry deoxygenated, liquified hope;
Dried up and poured out of scars.

I am growing death like the most beautiful, black rose
And it's stem is the neck of life.
-by holly boyd