Untouched Booze

Source: https://unsplash.com/@anniespratt

I dreamt of my soul’s reckoning,
Corpuscle by corpuscle,
flaying its halo, it donated
it’s disintegrated beams to the sullen sunless moon.

Sucked dry of it’s succulent disease like a parched cactus, the
heart milled into overdrive; not caring for the infantile darkness, or
it’s miscarriage in the bleeding sunrise of tonight’s demise.

In a hopeless miracle, the fingers they intervened; they
detached from the palm until they snapped; and
the words, they scrambled to suicide to keep the artist’s flesh alive;
to stop him from working himself to death: T, she
bore a grave in A’s triangular heart; and
‘b’ strangled itself in o’s tight noose;

of what was left fell prey to the page
that sat there as empty as untouched booze.

Ahsan Yousaf 2019