diseased. i may
bleed to death. or
the many trees
my sight sees
will blur, my head
colliding against one.
the rush in leaving must
compete with the vitality
of the lived lengthy days,
of the seconds,
all of which were
much too short. like
the last leap before
taking the beats
away from throbbing.
throbbing warm
blood will flow from
where the words went in
and my hands will no
longer hold. and
the mind i minted
with great care
will meet a befitting
closure. Peace.


I owe this post to Ekom. Thank you:)