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J.B.

Retro Mortis

I’ve been handed down lessons
from the hands of cold women
Sprouting from another man’s heart
and I’ve read 'em outside and apart
 
I wished I was a golem
Where I could eat the words
and they’d rot in my gut
but, rather, I waged the wars
 
Being a crucible of rumination
Dissecting the trivial
I decayed my hulls
I searched for revival
 
At the perfect angle
Light hits an angel
It reflects on cold tissue
And resolves every issue

(2014)

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