Wednesday, 17 June 2015

snowdrop polka

parchment skin
milky, translucent, almost see-through
with purple veins and liver spots
and bad blood bruising

the body winding down
all that’s left is unconsciousness
and the sound of shallow breathing

and somewhere buried deep inside the frontal lobes
is a lucid dream
of lying on a bed
beneath a blanket covered with feathers

it is beginning to snow

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