Roots.
Stone.
Petrified.
Roots.
Limbs reaching
for yesterday’s incoherency
I sit and abuse
my mind
which looks to
youth,
and seeks
lifeline to yesterday’s despondency
in its obtuse
hunger to find
the
sluggish
yesterday.
Roots
petrifying, a
wrecking succubal legacy
which loosens my
surge to blind
future. Though
horrified, mute
hymnsinging for
tomorrow’s cruel ecstasies
sees fit to seek struggle inside
with the
overloaded heart
burning to
balance
these bizarre
unpowering crimes.
And though a painful
reduction
and reminder of this human shell -
it will
succeed.
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