It is my Pain that Widows me from my Life,
my Past,
a Wrestling Ground from which I continue to try release myself from,
A Mighty Death grip,
Neck, suffocating Me,
Like my Death an how it tries to Chase me out of the Living,
Finds it’s way leaking as if squid ink, onto foreign grounds that should not,
Black, deep marine blue, and like a Plague,
Suicide comes to Feast on my Being,
In its Hunger, leaving me Scarce,
I was emptied,
Rinsed Dry,
Bleeding it’s way onto my Love,
Where I wish it did not