A Poppy on their ChestA Poem by John CiarmelloI have no first hand experience with this kind of addiction. I'm just extremely intuitive.A Poppy on their Chest
Molten red oozes from the hollows of thought. A third hand crushes threw the frontal lobe and grips the inner neck. This-while nimble poppy fields waltz on a warming air. An unbeknownst annihilation; Its luridness a harvest in a crowded netherworld. Beauty chiseled from the rings. How many will die tomorrow; a poppy on their chest? The purity distorted amongst the lively hillsides. Which of these onlookers will see? The pure in soul? The blackened of heart? SAYS THE SEER! Yes, call the dependent! Ring the abuser! It doesn’t matter to them. Woozy hallucinations. Unhinged thoughts. Blood fills the grounded cheek; The red coughed sporadically onto bleached cement; there- paints the junkies outline. They gulp between internal shrieks. Souls sold to the mules rotting corpse. Even with bludgeoned eyes does the Eagle see? Affluence embalms the addicted; to gone to Pray for death.
© 2018 John CiarmelloReviews
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5 Reviews Added on February 25, 2018 Last Updated on February 25, 2018 AuthorJohn CiarmelloNYAboutI'm a 58 year old enthusiastic writer of short story and Children's rhyme. I love to try all types of writing. I love the challenge of flash fiction. I'm not sure I have a novel in me though! We shall.. more..Writing
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