Featured

Scars of dreams

MY VALIANT SOUL

This vintage arm
is like a faded memory
a corpuscle
of streaming hope
the greys and the reds
a turbid of morbid dreams,
Scars slid, dancing,
they seem happy.
Scars are my baby now
forever, inside
my hallucinating body of madness.
pain is my adamant bowl of Ganges.
slipping between fingers of sickle.
Moist, melting inside somewhere
scars, you make me beautiful.


©Image and words MVS

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