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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I live off of their mausoleum soil… great line there
“Anemic dreams in monotone” WHOOAAA I loved that line!