There is a hollow carved in me,
an area created by hepatic knurling.
A space which serves as a hospice
for my Care, and Hope.
A place where these two
are given warm towels
light but tasty food, and
236 channels of cable TV
for entertainment while they
wait and bleed. I can
hear the rasp of their
labored breath; the choking
hemoptysis; the lesion wails
they cry into their pillows when
they believe no one else is
around. My heart is
heavy from the ichnite
filling the spaces
they have fallen from;
I drift in hemal circles.
-- from Sleeping with Nefarious Intent
Comments
Post a Comment
Questions or Comments?