©2021 Michael Raven
languishing lassitude
i open up veins
to let you in
to feast on me
to drink my wine
peel back my skin
dangling writhing
twisting in on myself
until i am ash
like everything
everything else
stillborn
what does it matter?
when painting rooms
with an axe
the sky goes out
all seventeen
begin the count
sceadugenga 