Poetry, Volume 3; Issue 2

He is a slave to the yearning
that has become his life.
Hard cords wind up his arm,
toxic tributaries running 
to the river through his heart.  
The arm is bruised 
and scarred by overuse, 
a strip-mined landscape
on a mountainside.

Bits of his life erode
and fall apart until the end.
Lying on a bathroom floor,
syringe still clutched 
in a blue hand,
long sleeves of the
turtleneck rolled up, 
revealing the stigmata
of the sacrificial lamb.

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