Bruno Bloodsworth Poems

In the cold of winter
Darkness falls hard and cruel.
No words stood, no words full
No warmth at all, nothing is beautiful.
...

I saw a man with his tongue hanging out like a dog.
He was barking like one too, pitched high.
He was on all fours with his arms and legs raised to the sky.
...

My blood smells of rotten flesh
my breath of rotting meat
and my voice sounds of the deads bust
My skin resembles a dried fruit and my bones seem to be made of dust.
...