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AlmsThe smell of deteriorating canals that wails of vacant instigations, they convulse under their erupting blistering flesh, crooked nails maul the cold air in flickering lights. Synthetic keratins that injected a cure, by numbing the entrance and bearing a filed cornerstones. Your glass eye rolls up the heavy vapor, for a sunburst retina that speaks omnipotent script, it mutely speaks of refining the grace in it's own genesis. Your epithalamus gnarls above the colony that sinks into the barren concepts you never let burrow between your lobes. Their skeleton embodies yours,Alms
by ~pulmonarystains
The ocean floorTurn me inside out, I need the air in my lungs. The atmosphere augmented and the hadopelagic floor rises to my throat. Nineteen suns fluxed under my bent carpus, before the staircase forged from amniotic imprints leads me into the blackened knots that spiral out of sight.The ocean floor
My lumen shakes free of secretion, palms forward there is no lie, that could pinion my optic nerve. The waves crash backwards, and I can unhinge my jaw, for the train rails to brace. My eyelids will open, in time to slide down into the nothing.
by ~pulmonarystains
Run Ambulence, RunHe kisses the asphalt, with split mandible lust. His desire splintered him Through laminated husks.Run Ambulence, Run
They compress his rib cage, with electric apathy. Pray you will not be that carcass, a molded corpse with no title. Their pulsing lambent cries, for a buried name.
You should check your pulse, before they inject trumpets and your name fades into
the tinted asphalt under his sliced face.
by ~pulmonarystains
Girlfriend4Girlfriend
I have spent the nights, with my clavicle dripping, from your restless lament. There is sand filling through my pores and I'm waiting for the seams to rip, gratuity in the palm with the needle. Take it. But I swell next to him. His velvet smelling of sharp flowers, in a field you've never been to.
Knees salacious with the pattern of his calcaneus, rinsing your hair of his conceit. Ask me, of a rail to suspend under your fermenting vertebrae I only have enough, to convene my margins.
You're dripping the phosphine he pour
by ~pulmonarystains
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Are you a budding writer that is just itching to get your work out there for the world to see?
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Check out my art account - [link]
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Are you a budding writer that is just itching to get your work out there for the world to see?
Join us, Literary-Minds, for writers across the universe.
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-- not a charity worker."
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