The Clot of Life

His knuckles pressed the clot of life,

He tickled the needle in his cheek, 

They heard confusion, cry.
The spring in the clock moved like a snail,

The chains chuckled, 

He felt at home in the jail.
He let the faint light caress his chest,

He loved nibbled nights, he liked broken finger-nails…

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Published by: flatlined84

A thinker outside the quarantine zone. The words on this blog will assault your senses, would make you curse in the holy name of Bard. If that's not enough, leave a piece of your mind in the comments section- the writer is on the dole and is always hungry.

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