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The smell of our mother's decaying flushed her

so much to remember

we've become so familiar with her dry changing air and the colors of her death

it is a touch

the reminder we are one in so many and soon it will be me feeding the dry air

it will be our flesh

it will be our crumbling lifless bones that add the taste of woe in her breath

i will be the chill of their tears

every spine prickle

every live delusion

soon we will be our mother's base again

COMMENTS

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theDarkKing
07:02 Nov 02 2012

Love this. This is really good. Hope to see more.

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