The End Is Nye

Art, poetry, music, film

[theendisnyeart]

I fall fast and hopelessly,

Granting the universe my full submission,

My skeleton hand reaching from the flames,

Grasping onto my fear,

That no scientist might crack open my ribs,

Find a piece of something they like,

And put it in a jar,

Carefully exchanging the formaldehyde every month,

Eyeing it sweetly,

No, I am ash,

Tucked away in melted glass,

In a pendent you wear with you.

[theendisnyeart]

Suspended by spiderwebs,

I vow to lick the salted wound,

Taken from my body,

Shadows make swirling faces,

Black cats sneak around corners,

And I take photos of my flesh,

Courage gleams through my sweating pores,

But my bones crack and bend,

Does this creature know how to love,

Or only endanger itself,

I lick my wounds.