9: 50 Pm Sunday Night, In A City That Has No Fall Poem by Nyx C Styx

My sanity is dripping
down the side of my ear
and in it's place the sorrow sinks
and misery takes hold
from the inside out
this forever lump in my throat
it hurts

the snake has shed her skin
till no more of her is left
if she had known she would hold
onto the flaking
but this was the last time


there is a word
that compels me to words
and that word I know not
this is
a feeling
the being awares
that you hold no reign over the beating of your heart
it goes on
and on
and does not cease
and at times
it does not beat loud enough
this word
that I feel
with each alternating passage and pause of blood
with each stroke
this feeling
with each sound of the beat
it rejuvenates and marks the time
I am lost
in this feeling
of celebration and mourning
at the measure of time and blood
each beat that brings the life
each beat that marks the death.