Friday, January 19, 2007

Dim

Blistering bones sweat
Leaking politely alone,
Epidermal embers flit
Shedding curls of guilt.

A crackling of tongue explodes
Ignorantly steaming life,
His forlorn fingers boil
Nourishing their vows.

Wilting wings forget the
Awful odors they exhume,
Searing cinders all ablaze
So disappears his light.

An ashen moth, dim.