The dead skin piles chin high
too much rough pink to go around.
Wishing it were smooth as infant calm
but it remains jagged with each stuttered step.
The eyes droop dragging on the floor
lazy as a howling hound.
Hoping they might lift the next second
but hours pass while a zombie wishes.
The blemishes stain red
seeping through to the surface.
Dreaming of a day when they blend
into complexion of an absorbed sunny day.
The windpipe chokes on acid
savoring the poison it chases.
Searching for something to quench evil
bubbling at the bottom of guilt.
The heart fears abandonment
but it is already alone.
Leeching onto any hand with blood
yet refusing any thing with life.
The mind is heavy and numb
bearing all pain it can possibly muster.
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