Would I burn out my throat
If the solvent were assured
To take nothing but my voice?
Mud well passed the knees
My primal belly exhales
The fascist grit,
The necrotizing erythrocytes
No one wants to heal
From the inside.
My hollows are deep
Echos scamper from
The barge of my throat
Who is the source
Of these recursive screams?
Is it one of us?
Death is not always obvious
But it is persistent.
Sometimes a ghost
Is just a ghost
Sometimes it’s remorse
And nothing spoils youth
Like remorse.
The rudiments of dreams
Blister behind my eyes,
Those ungodly windows
There is much in this life
That is only supposed
But if not for imagination
I wouldn’t know anything at all.
I just want to know that youth is eternal!
Me too Leovi =)