Any thing at any time.

And right now

A mess.

All the while disgusted at it

I lay in it

Bathe in it

Add to it

And in a minute laughing

from a memory

I steal moments 

The moments are like rope

They may well help me out 

Any time

Like the time going by in this well

And will anyone realise I’m drowning

Will anyone realise that my mouth and nose are submerged

Am I really that terrible at communicating by loss of life

My lifeless eyes once a window, now a door.

Shut that door and let us store the filth. Store the smell of rotting flesh of the body that once contained a precious soul.

She’s here no more. 

© 2013 by Rianna Powell. All rights reserved