Poem by Doniell Cushman
Split Open, cadaver
Bloodhound scent trail
into deep veins
A throb so deep it dehydrates
full of viscosity, No energy
Lapping the pool of sick
Feeling weary and barbed
No reaching out
Hidden destiny of unknown origin
I lay here
© Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
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