Monday 21 January 2008

Notebook 031

Gouge out my chest, my head,
until nothing is left but a vast emptyness.
Then realise that no light from thine or my own ribs, wil be emitted.
No sickly golden smell but that of metallic blood.
Frenzy your eyes upon the void that is unfocusable, yet nether the less, present and filled.
No ghostly shroud shall vapour upwards to a heavenly playground of absolution.
All but the gases of my rotting cavity shall fill your nostrils and putrify your enthusiasm.

Turn away and feel.
Turn away and see.

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