firmaments above, darkness lies,

it looks down

with omniscient eyes.

demented reality, hands cringe,

it reaches in

with an iridescent syringe.

congealing colors, self-aware,

it injects you

with fanatic care.

cranium slitted, wholly bled,

it made you

with kin image in kind.

[This poem came about when I saw a piece of art work with a man lying down and a syringe going into his head.  The concept of a soul is fascinating (regardless of what an individual may believe) and thus it came to my mind that the idea of a soul seems like it’s injected (from a writer’s perspective, you can do a lot with the stories of a soul).  I wanted to make it a little more gruesome and I may revisit this poem later to make the imagery more intense.]


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