you are nowhere.
Sleeping to the sound of trickling waters,
waking as your fluids drain between cragged tiles,
watching as they dribble from your rotten carcass,
weeping as they drain into your rifted flesh.
listen closely to your cries.
You do not plead for help.
You do not scream in pain.
You do not shout in rage.
Not even your song can be heard from beneath your crumbling cage.
how your mind screams.
Beneath your ragged corpse your colours drain.
Echoes crash against your ridged seams.
Biles mingle inside your rotten passages;
dye seeping out your stoned retinas.
My Dearest Calista,
do you hear these echoes?
lights shifter between your consciousness.
sounds that creep beneath your vessels.
your fluids boil.
the walls engulf you.
your song proceeds you.
melancholy defines you.
My Dearest Calista.