Sunday, February 20, 2011

Bones

My bones scream to me;
they throw themselves against
the sinews and the skin.
They want out; they want air.
My flesh smothers them.
They drown in the earth of myself;
clawing at the dirt;
trapped in the coffin of me.
Soon they will be free of my earth,
when my own body is confined
to the ground,
in a box.

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