•Meet me - in pieces?•
Somewhere between crevices of cadaver,
of late my heart lost the mirabilia, it is
rusted and dusty of aches and crooked
hopes. In caravans of wonder a portion
me sculpted the decaying drought and
now am left like an abstract piece of art.
The space between tear drops and
silences now spreads a canopy of coffins,
death seems sweeter now as I lay
naked.
•captioned•
-