Title: A City Of Lost Souls
by Craig from Cornwall | in writing, poetry, dark
We walk around like zombies
drooling/groaning/moaning in tune with the aborted babies,
pictures of lost lovers patchworked into our flesh
dragging our memories behind us like a monsters knuckles
limp, broken and chipped by the road beneath us.
With skeletons attached to us at the hip
regrets in a knapsack
furnished and designed to plague our brittle backs,
we creep as sleeping policemen
subtle hurdles for the remainder of athletes to overcome
memo's tagged onto the road to remind us of the dangers of sleepwalking.
We work in the cemetary: I dream in the cemetary.
I cradle the bones of you: you love the bones of him.
Comments