ripping the night to shreds

as I tear through the celestial membrane
the goodness of it singes my tongue;
it touches the lump in my throat: a tumour
of tears I am unable to shed, and
hisses, dissolving what is left of my words

no longer human,
I howl at the full moon
ripping the night to shreds:
let the bitter shades of my soul
taint the picturesque sky
and those who cry mercy with blood
on their hands
can die.

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2 comments

  1. MoonSeaPoetry · January 18

    Such a beautiful darkness!

  2. Words from a little person · November 13, 2016

    Love this poem

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