If These Walls Could Bleed
Dark penned a deal for some sleep to keep the engine grinding.
Lay down withered to another night of dogs for warmth.
Insomnia thoughts creep across the hours.
The sun rises too early to banish eye decay.
Pain woke to the dead beaten rhythm of daylight wanderings.
Feet shuffling through the broken glass sand on sludge
fume cells.
Misanthropic crude pumped straight to the cortex.
Split, mangled, made to order descent.
Ears Shifted down to neutral waiting for the phone.
No words spoken but post consumer waste.
Smoke drifts from the old altar of filters.
The cigarette ashes crawl under eyelids blurred and weak.
Is patience the burden of the fool or dreamer?
Cracked ceiling amplifies morgue silent answer.
If these walls could bleed
Whose name would they scream?
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