every step
across the charred ground
is a feat
born of agony
the lancing pain
erupts
travels
at the speed of light
from the stab wound
in my thigh
to brain
overworked
from too much
stimuli

everything smolders
that isn’t outright
burning still
the sky
is choked
by noxious clouds
i believe
i may be
the last living thing
in a five mile radius
and that
is not going to be
the case
for much longer

lines
of angry red
coil around
the traces of black
infection
i can smell
the rot
as it slowly climbs
across my torso
towards
my heart
to tear down
every cell
in it’s ravenous path
to eventual
death

i would cry
but neither
tears
nor sound
can be formed
by this broken husk
of what i once was
man?
beast?
the terms have meaning
but are no longer
applicable
to the situation

(UN)POETIC: a collection of poetry