Stood on the shore and watched waves hit the bay.
Before too long it was reaching for me.
Slick as black but somehow twice as deep.
Venomous and virile as if chattering sharp teeth.
Heard this before never had I.
However every day since that sound has assaulted my mind.
Nightmares and day terrors swim in my head.
Eventually came the voices baying for me to be dead.
Unravelling, can’t let go.
One more hit before I must so.
Consumption, your are a leech.
Don’t say a word,
I don’t wish to hear you preach.
Rapping on torment is a thrilling but devious ride.
Stings almost as much as the rending of pride.
Though none of it will ever be quite as foul…
As that day I shattered like glass versus a sharp beaked owl.
The screeches were sumptous until they were not.
Sounds I can never seem to be without.
Staggering scriptures I committed to ash.
Pity it was too late to fix that poor hand that I cast.
Unravelling, can’t let go.
One more hit before I must so.
Consumption, your are a leech.
Don’t say a word,
I don’t wish to hear you preach.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 