Something has Died

I feel the husk of its dead shell
rubbing against my innards.
No piece of it breathes
yet it prods.
Reminding me it’s always
Just sitting.
Drained and desiccated,
where once
it was full
to overflowing,
now nothing
but decay
a void filled
only with
black matter.
A negative life if you will
The blackest of
Gouge out my eyes, then tape them
over times ten and
throw me in a capped well
type of black.
Something has died
in me
And I don’t know what.
But I want it back.
So I go in search.

by Philip Wardlow 2017


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s