Memento Mori

A poem about how my writing is s**t these days.

I only write skeletons now
No flesh, no blood
or skin, or nerves
and yes, it’s morbid.
Because I’ve been stripped
Flayed and
Laid out end to end.

A skeleton is mostly space
Burning against the white
The polished gleaming bone.
and yes, it’s as you guessed
Because it reminds me
Each time I look in to those vacant eyes
That open jaw, that empty head.

and yes, I bury them deep
and no, the worms don’t feed