repugnancy of gray

beset by shadows in
this hysterical hierarchy
of heavy handed harvesters
and a confluence of crows
there is no color
in this repugnancy of gray

a series of ever deepening
ligature marks crisscrossing
fetidly weeping wounds
a cross section of infection
in plasticized ergonomics

wretchedly retching
staining marble edifices
shattering strained glass
reiterations of sullen pains

skewered on the last broken
promise shivering from the tattered
bowstring of eternity’s
half cocked admonishments
as pus oozes down the wrinkled
paperthin spirit of remorse

the lone mockingbird screams
as the last cardinal is silenced
for what is a mockingbird
with nothing left to mock
what is a poet with no trace
of beauty in his soul but a fool
carving epitaphs in the soil
in a repugnancy of gray

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