Poetry

You refuse to grow in a grim challenge. 
Already the witch-hunt has started. 
It was strange to step outside your body 
and don’t look at the death 
on your doorstep. 
Softly flows the dolour in God’s shining eyes. 
 
I have run out my thoughts 
my brain wave. 
shame to be still breathing. 
Starving, I eat the howls 
and drink the limbs. 
Nowhere green inks writes the passion 
A procession of pain 
starts in ecstasy. 
 
Your extinct past has entered my body 
It shakes and brings tremors 
Give me a cup of darkness 
I am going to burn my bridges.