Gnawing at my bones
Are cells,
Pieces of me
Gone rogue.
Gnawing at my psyche
The thoughts,
Pounding pulses
Short-circuit my brain.
Gnawing at my hope
The images,
Slabs of dread
Strain my beating heart.
Gnawing at my faith
The doubts
Question the questions,
Pummel my soul.
Residue piles
Shit out by
The dull tooth rogue-
Well fed by fear,
It gnaws,
Subtracting me
Bit by bit.
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1 comment:
Such power here, Mary. I'm hoping you'll post your spirit's reply.
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