The contender

More of that soapy non sense
Easter sunday. 2.20 a.m

I wake to find myself in hell sometimes- body, not soul
Brown walls melting off the surface of my face
Warm. Lumnious. Heat

I wake in hell seeing
Afew feet
you’re raised away from me
my ashen body craves
There is a smoke

Eyes burned out
Still. You are standing
your hair’s shaggy – I love you

In segments I have
stretched out
to you
Eyes un seeing
Our walls melting
We are between us

I wake in hell sometimes
uncovering a common truth
Where are the sinful
hell aint that bad after all

In these lit darknesses
I have awoken
On occasions
with nothing on

The devil across my room
Angels stealing in
I could have been somebody

I wake in hell sometimes
burning a warm fire
wailing unheard
yeilding to no good

You there
me here
the world above
I am bloated


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