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I am rigor mortis now (part one)


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My head is, an inch, near a loop
Of a hanging rope,
A tear is, on a verge of my eye,
Upon slipping.

My soul is ruggedly drying as an
Oat bread
Ascending its fragments with
Umbel's nectar to

The lunar heaven.

I begin to swallow my breath,
My heart started lisping, my skin prickling
With reflections of the day,
The noons open their mouths
With every mourn lament.

I haunt myself down as I usurp death,
I took his power when my chin touched
The indelicate halter.

I am rigor mortis now.


 

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I think your pieces are decent, vivid.  I do enjoy reading it.  So, makes me wonder, why are there so few comments.  All I can come up with is that you might post often, more often than you comment...? lol......

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@Michaels Lyric thank you. I think there are few comments because this site is not centered around poetry. So I share my work in different poetry sites and here. Just throwing them out there to whom who ever may be interested to read, it is fascinating to collect varied opinions and see their sights. Thanks again.

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