This world is of a haze
It was
It still is
Here, laws of physics may be bent and broken
They have no dominion in this place
Here I am;
Pulled, stretched and torn to pieces,
Scattered into the twisting fog, winding winds
Insides melting asunder
Slick and sliding down my navel
Deeper still, until I’m encapsulated
It’s a sick feeling
The fear swells, my heart breaks
The salt of a tear shed and intense apathy
Bear the trace of a past life unparalled.
It’s revoked, it’s still and yet violent in the abyss
Of it’s creator.
Its suffocating; Biding its time.
I feel it edging closer to my body,
Sliding its finger tips upward,
Intertwining with my soul.
Tightening the fractals until I have nothing left
But there is no abscond
This is the air I breathe
I cannot leave

I wouldn’t want to.

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    This Poems Story

    Sickly sweetness of living in the past and the duality/paradox of feeling home, yet haunted. Featured work “Nostalgia” on the last page of 2023’s anthology book “Quilted Remnants.”