An omniscient curse has stalked me this turbulent decade,
Dripped gastric acid into the cosmic scales and forever tipped the
balance out of my favour.
Gnarled limbs have thrown me into the abyss, thrust the drill into my gut and made me an invalid.
An unblinking red mass, I lunge from pane to pane in a frenzied,
This amorphous malice, this scheming villain of a thousand different guises;
It bleaches my skin, bloats my stomach and rubs glass into my exposed nerve endings.
Like Gray, I dissolve solitary into invisible monstrousness.
And when in fitful death I thrash naked upon vast granite slabs,
Titan cliffs will beckon me into the godless fathoms of swirling
carbon monoxide and piercing solar flares beneath.
Stay and feast, unfortunate wreck. Wash up a sad, expired slob atop a mass of fetid waste.
Anything but the raw, puffy lids, throbbing temples and shredded
Christie-Luke Jones is a poet, actor, screenwriter and philanthropist from Oxfordshire, England. Christie-Luke’s writing is strongly influenced by the Gallic blood that courses through his veins, as well as his interest in the more macabre aspects of the human condition.
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