your swansong was a sonnet

your death spasms mock coitus

and the crack of your ribcage

is the whisper of a

long lost


nothing more

nothing less

(for I can go no lower)


About ashlomen

I am a self-destructive, lazy writer/poet... wasting my full potential on a world that doesn’t care.
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1 Response to “Paindance”

  1. Bailey Hunter says:

    Nice. Wicked. I like the way the image of your lover is revealed to us stanza by stanza…

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