Sentimental Decay

Fate is the taste of dirt,
and rocks will grind their way in,
to replace the scarlet diamond killers
crawling under your skin.
You are a castle, abandoned,
to the worms held within,
but will rot like an apple
in a coffin compost bin.
Cigarettes in the tin
on the dresser begin
to replace all the
lungfulls of stale oxygen.
The sky is toxic by now
so I can’t help but cringe,
drop my chin,
and hold tight to my bottled chagrin.
Mercy is a joke of worth;
self hate will fester, then win,
it’s pretty simple to crack
your own shell; it’s so thin.
Like a sky scraper skeleton
I sway in the wind:
the night air has a grip,
the full moon has a grin.
You can choose to avoid
thoughts that prick like a pin,
like self preservation,
and how unattainable
it really is.
but they always catch up
and kill you slow from within.
I think I’m going to let them in.
I’ve already let them in.

Sentimental Decay

Nathan Emery

Joined September 2009

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