Morpheinial

 

Your mind
speaks to me in the way the sunspots,
cancerous,
to the darkest pupils of entranced eyes.
Injected like morphine,
your soul seeps into the soft tissues of
my skull and the muscles constricting
while you’re puncturing round after round of poisoned virtues,
heavily loaded in the heaviest of pallidness,
laying on a hospital bed,
I’m clenching for balance as my soul’s levitating from the soil.

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