Beating flesh.

by blossom666


A helpless romantic,
hapless endeavours, darkness calling,
shadows spinning.
Love worn on the
Sleeveless arm
the expenditure, a soul.
Torn, mutilated, dysfunctional.
Spirit waned, despondent.
Using the light as stepping
stones to reach the darkness.
A vice grip, blood dripping,
heart massacred
clawing at the shredded pieces.
Super glue, brown paper, string and spit holding
together the
mass of beating
flesh in broken rhythm.

Karen Hayward ©2016