Death and Resurrection
I begin a journey through hell,
clench my jaw, gnaw on the intangible.
Lucid fires lick my lips and burn
the words from my mouth and I,
I must reconstitute them from
my ashen tongue, with blood
and wishful thinking.
I scribe them then in scrawled lines
from the jagged tips of my battered teeth --
forged, as steel,with desolate flame
and frigid liquid realization.
It is my daily death and resurrection,
immortalized in ink, indelible,
unforgotten in the scars on my fingertips.
Poetry
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