Friday, 18 March 2011

Count your blessings

Life lying in cotton tatters,
strewn ribbons, remnants of dead blessings,
far too thin and too fragile to make anything of.
I am in the larder of my mind, crying out for sustenance,
there is nothing but an overwhelming silence,
I can feel my saliva dissolving my tongue,
I can feel my fingertips crumbling like spent matches,
ash tumbling into obscurity,
There is too much, and so there is nothing.

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