Saturday, 31 October 2020

The Slimy Things with Legs

all alone
I wake in the endless
quiet, cold, still
my soul in agony
and darkness
heavy on weary eyes
I dare not open
for I can feel them
crawling
the slimy things
everywhere
with legs
in flesh and open
rotting wound
for years and yet
I could not die
forgotten in the forest
buried, lost in soul and mind
and still I wake alone
all alone
back there again
in the damp, the dark, the dirt
with the agony and the slimy things
as decades danced slowly by
without me and I only wished
to die I tried to pray
but I could feel a cross
no longer round my neck, my faith
was taken with my life
brother against
brother turned
buried and left unmarked
for dead, to rot, alone
I am still
alone, so alone but living death
took pity on me and I am
no longer in the ground
I am safe in bed and clean
and I can open my weary eyes
I am safe, I am clean
and less alone. it is only
in my mind
that the slimy things
with legs live on
but they vanish
in the light
 


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