Vice: Heroes Don’t Exist

Bored and decrepit
My fingers excel at
Making you weep and
Ooze with ache.
Extracting imagery

Touching upon a void
Pale in dryness
Intricately woven
Amid imminent fall grasses
Whispered magnificence
Bright starlight.

How many days pass
Back and forth
Secret tennis
For the ages
Mining excellence
Opening emotional doors
Unfolding Chairs

Head in a vice, eventually,
If you try.
Stones in soup
Meat and bones
Grind to a halt.
Bite down
Break a tooth.

I steal a piece of you
Eat and drink colossally
Many drops of liquid soul
To keep the flavor
And remember



One thought on “Vice: Heroes Don’t Exist

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