Through the mud


Columns form upon the shore. The dirt and foul essence of the rotten corpse. Their bodies riddled with the shells of men. The pain in their skin, the lasting wind forever blows across the blackened night. Pulling their parka closer to their face, the wind screams, it digs into their soul. Ash and charcoal coat the shores of these hallowed grounds. Passing and digging they find their way. Pulling the skin from their flesh and bone. Carving their way into the barren soil.

Does the feet of the disposed bear no shoes? Grasping and pulling at what it once used. Knowing the nightmare, it roars its vicious head. Down and down the dragon screams. Clawing, biting, digging at my seams. Trying to last another day. Fighting and pushing to do it no more. Stopping at the grasp of my final conclusion. I hear it feel it upon my chest. The poison no longer sits upon its throne, I have slayed the dragon this day.

Although, tomorrow it will try again. I slosh through the mud and into my bed another day done. The voice calling me, the glass asking me. I do not want to go through the mud. I cherish this day and wait for another. How will this fight end, when do I stop, do the voices go away. Does it ever end. I have said the words, I have made my amends. I will not toil and think about it again. But, tomorrow I know the voice, it will come back again.

Come into the neon light and stay until the end,

B

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