Suspended Mortality
My bones shifted
Where a truant soul
Once malingered,
My eyes lisp into
The siphoning light
Purge into whiteness,
My lips quaver malignantly
And then sojourns shuddering
As a wisp of breath escaped
Into an abortive valley,
My grip tightens then
Loosen its flimsy cajoling
Torn between fighting
For convalescence and
Submitting into honesty:
To severing the cord;
I chose to fought to keep
The persiennes open
And to resuscitate
The painful haggling
But how do we fill our holes?
We live and breathe,
But what do we live for?
This skin is marred
By scars of little deaths
Pestered by the superfluity
Of bruises and sanguinary
For many a struggling and
Infinite unrivaled contending
These oppressions that
Sullies the sleepless vault
Is the same desiccation
I found in a burning wood
Thrown into the hearth
Accumulating warmth
This is the machinism
Of the puppet and his strings
Finding quintessence in
Harried places.
And as we ruminate
Into these glacial trail
Of our squalid putrefaction
We hope to make amends
Underneath a requiem
We vie for verve, we vie for demise
We vie to remember, we vie to forget
The tongue held in the cheek
From gorging the elegy
Because in living life
We nurture death
And the greater breath
I heave for your robust
Vigor and bereft
The greater defilement
Slither in your veins
Like sleeping cells
Waiting to burst
And poison you from
The very core
Without my struggles
The pain and its
Ever glorious spawns
I am tight-roping
In a suspended moment
Of perpetual decay
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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