A morbid brush

death car

Faceless driver.
I keep replaying,
the violent curve –
my unlighted bicycle.
Pump ; drugged with
bone crack pain coward
agonize no thoughts. I keep
replaying the scene,
the simple magnet of events.
I keep coloring the blood
against the asphalt,
drawing the feeling of crushed bone.
No thoughts and my eyes
on charcoal night.

To have died, doesn’t
seem so tragic now.
Death – finally!
Under the numinous
full moon!

Nihilistic Poetry

One thought on “A morbid brush

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