There Is No Name Poem by Cheyenne Rhon

There is no name,
When you're screaming in silence,
Under a skin of sugar and decay.
Though, licking those fingers,
Can save your brain,
From dissolving…
Into a dynamic puddle of faces,
That your lies have characterized,
To the step of your walk,
And twisted talk.
Though, muddled and blurred,
Your image becomes obscured,
By those paradoxical thoughts,
Seeping off your tongue,
Slurring your senses,
Till they're dripping,
Into another dimension,
Where the in-between meets,
Like a parasitic leech.