Touch Of Death

by Good Enough   Dec 14, 2012


The sky is waking, sinking, breathing
Furious winds churn through ragged branches
Tearing away death and coldness
Gripping at my throat, torturing my words
My hands clammy with a cold irreversible sweat
Sways me to a darkness yet unknown
Fighting my eyes to look past the black
To a scorching, blinding headache of a light
Protruding through a small hole, growing
As if I am moving closer to an endless edge
My toes settling in at the edge of the crack
dug into the earth, separating life with death
And this is where decisions are made..
Is it life or is it death?

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Latest Comments

  • 9 years ago

    by Ben Pickard

    This is the second poem I've read of yours and is equally powerful; it has a real desperate air to it again and is very intense. The language and imagery are both brilliantly employed throughout.
    Well done and I look forward to reading more of your work,
    All the best
    Ben

  • 11 years ago

    by Gness

    I like it its dark and gives the reader the idea of entraptment

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