Wrinkled Worn Words

The blue blade was deep as torn scars,

Wounds that festered foresworn hard

Bleeding pick pockets of dry ice burns

Frigid slivers bear shivers stone cold.

Alone destitute dank darkness weeps,

Tears in sunken sockets switch wallow

In nail piercing chokehold cries s-word

That pierce shredded to compost lime.

Bleach skeletal bone scraped beyond clean,

Acid flux peeling layer by layer lamp skin death,

Where the soul stretches thin plied lamb skin

Translucence tanning brittle Wrinkled Worn Words.

David Lester Young 05/03/16