Darkness and Dirty Diners and the Midnight Host Serving Up Death as the Poetry Weeps Into Its Day Old Coffee, Cold as a Corpse These dense and hollow bones and bland flesh that you’ve gifted me are as empty as the silence within words without teeth, and limp as the thin blue veins sucked…
To bleed
is necessary in order to feel, to feed the soil of the soul that hungers for immortality or simply the hope, the idea that we are more than this these bones these ghosts sowing seeds of surrender inside of the light for a better understanding of the darkness that breeds, grows In deaths womb new…
Blue smoke,
dark ghosts neither entering nor leaving only lingering in the swirling gray thoughts that hold them somewhere between sorrow and hope ©Debbie Berk
