Fog

the fog has descended upon the world

I’m blinded

I scribble through life

with a pen from years ago

I live alone, with a poem

written on a piece of paper

that came back to life from the netherworld

a ballet of pain flashes every night under my eyelids

with the sharp edges

of smoke and alcohols

my knees are like cornerstones

all scorched and carefully chiseled

a parchment for the future

every day, I make love to innocent virgins

I sin inside tepid sheets

I let their bodies shred my aura away

their venom trickles into my veins

it rises, and overflows, and ripens

like an effervescent pus

a metastasis hanging hesitantly between the past and the future

the fog has descended upon the world

I feel the earth sucking me in

and the sky doesn’t fit between my hands anymore