Dead Girl Falling

Stench of cadaver on her lips,
velvet skin blisters to sandpaper.
Sickest satisfaction encourages bitter corpses
to flock to her doorstep,
brandishing blunt blades so excruciating;

she doesn’t reject them, such 
solace can only be found in agony.
Grasping at excuses, falsehoods
flourish off the tongue. Ghostly
eyes and ravenous cries 

replace the aching inside her skull.
Her stomach hardens to rope, coiled and
twisted and tied in hideous knots. 
Stumbling, she collapses into
the abyss-

no light can reach her
unless she sacrifices her bones as kindling.
The longer she stays, the more
familiar it becomes;
the void, decorated with melancholy paintings

and scrolls of numbers is 
her new home. If she had a brain
that wasn’t decomposing she might
recollect her youth, the days where
nothing was too much

and bathrooms weren’t churches
and her existence wasn’t a prison sentence.
The storm clouds loom ahead, the air
hot and dense- and all she can do is wait
and hope the misery passes.