A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth
Life As Autopsy
Your scalpel slides across my chest
Opening -a conversation of matter and antimatter
Inside I am, brimming with reasons to live, a pulse, gallons of blood and
A head full of terrible ideas
Glistening like new wine in old wineskins, I flow- a dawn coming across the sky to paint it with the blood of sheep and goats
An idea of unrealized hope
A concept of conception
Where the darkest minds keep parley with specters of powers long dead
You-
Sew me shut, lest I flow into you and become
Your body’s disease, your problem, your demonic possession cradled in your nervous hand.
paullang.blog 