my hair will grow no longer
my eyes blink in the mirror
as a steady trickle of nose-blood flows
down my cheek's trough
no reflection
no glimmer not even a shadow shows
one foot in the dawn
on leg in the great beyond
hear the wail of pale music
distant and indistinct
take a timid step forward
out of time my skin begins to shrink
does relief come created in the colors
a palate of blurred violet hues
the waters rush-wash over me
the drone dullard human voices
become the winged annoyance of flies
less far less
the poor lost world no longer
comes through
Copyright Friday July 24th 2015 All Rights Are Reserved By this Author
All ideas/rants/poetry/prose are the expressed legal property of
this Writer/Author
Meloo Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World
LEGAL COPYRIGHT OF THIS WORK/ THIS SITE TITLE
BY THIS AUTHOR/WRITER