Thursday, November 19, 2020

Previously Published in Dead Snakes . . .


My temperature rises at the sight of blood
drained.  I am
inexplicably drawn to the pallid
gray of freshly rotting flesh.  More
malleable once rigor mortis fades.  The cold
touch calls me.  I cannot
help myself.  Only death can
release me.

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Previously Published in Epigraph . . .

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