wicks the bloodshed
but beneath the surface
a Cellophane Self
loathing, lies in chains
the folding and unraveling
in contortionist dreams
mimics murmurs (silenced screams)
as the faceless clock chimes
time’s run out, or it never was
I live life in thirds — a reduction of things
I’ve done this fanatic challenge before but this one’s worth a redo for sure!
Today is Day 1 of #OctPoWriMo join me, 31 poems in 31 days. Do you dabble in word play as well? Let’s create 31 in 31!
Love and Ink,