there are leeches fat with the blood that carelessly falls from my eyes to stain my cheeks crimson

thunder sounds

there are maggots deep in the dreamflesh writhing with sallow misery in which to feast

nature howls

a housefly walks across the ocular orb’s unseeing surface with spindly legs in the jelly

plumes of smoke

the dry rasp of scales as the serpents slithers down the open throat casually ignoring the blackened tongue of truth

whispered sighs

delicate web slowly woven to suspend ossicle insolence as the fat spider sits in silence

abandon hope

there are blowfly eggs in the dessicated hippocampus slowly hatching to infest memories of hope