Hypoxia

A poem

I am my own fever

I am afraid of my simple mistakes

Me and myself stare at
each other

We can eat our tissue
and inhale…

Laxed reins!…

New brain!…

Anywhere but eternity,
sultrily

Broken soul, gentle dream, 
draining cortex

Lack of oxygen,
I’m not seeing!…

I live off of their
mausoleum soil

My coffin is blind to
idle eyes

My bones aren’t 
dry enough

I'll learn to love
this place

Laxed reins!…

New brain...

Aggravated body, cerebrum’s 
tired

Don’t forget your breathing,
baby camel —

There's no tissue here
left to exhale!…

Laxed reins...

New brain...

Loss of eyesight 
is paradise

Ossuary clean, my skull, 
dirty skull

Anemic dreams in monotone

Tarantula thorax

In here lies
a wholly black pupil,
a white flat circle.

Hope, George Frederic Watts, 1886

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