If I were to call

death my love,

dulcet nectarous solitude 

that haunts me only too well,

dominating deduction, anxiety of my mind

writhing through skulls thick of lead

drowning accomplices 

jealous blood grovelling in apology

a bromide, chestnut soporific fate

leading each of us earthward 

sterile mournful arena 

nothing more of tactility.  

Reviews

[Wondering Mind]

Your mindscapes are scary, at times..Or I have a faint heart, or both even.

[Penny Ellen]

I like. It's like a circle that just gets tighter and tighter. I love hen titles flow into the next line of the poem. Very unpredictable. Lots of pretty-sounding words used in disturbing ways.