the anxious warm breath
gulped down the throat,
a trapped pulse,
to the tingling ribs and sore bones,
The sting of nails buried in flesh,
The cold shrivelled fingertips-numb and wet,
The face torn into a forever smile.
Lusting after the sin of joy,
pleasure dome for the broken,
They can’t revere with nostalgia,
Nor burden with hopes,
Seize it and live,
Or die in oblivion.