Poem 20150824

you don’t do this
you don’t do that

these sins of omission
stoke fires of
hell hotter
than any true transgression

the bones ache for fire
the skin becomes paper thin
as it does with age
as it does with disuse
water is the only thing
left
and the dream of drowning
comes each night
like a drawn bath

why don’t you just
why won’t you just

2 thoughts on “Poem 20150824”

  1. Excellent! The changing and morphing as a result of doing nothing – fabulous, such as “the skin becomes paper thin / as it does with age / as it does with disuse”

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