All Day in Virtual Pompeii


stood here

with emptiness

in the space of this

cracked hole of a maw

contorted to a slight smile

as it silently puts forth a plea

to be filled henceforth to the brim

and never drained of the sustenance,

capturing it as a permanent prisoner of cold,

to law low in atria as a gentle stream of magma,

singeing softly in blackened crevices made vacant,

for the air cluttering veins is a jagged voice of smoke,

brewing nonsense without a sense to guide proper course,

simply leaving a lingering loss that expands to block out organs,

a mass glacierized to where only passing assurance is a temporary high,

though depleted slowly and softly in barren, blackened crevices,

extinguished come the morn after when the river runs dry,

drained out in a bathroom sink to purge regret’s pull,

a crooked mirror’s eye winking through its cracks,

aware of a lack of any self-aware quality to spot,

hid under worry’s scar and penciled freckles,

marks only apparent after hesitation,

made too obvious in a judge’s gaze,

for I’ve appointed this to you,

hoping henceforth at now

in this cracked-hole maw,

you’ll fill the blank space

in twisted tongues

linked here,



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