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Date Posted: 12:51:44 05/08/01 Tue
Author: Paris Lovecraft
Subject: In My Veins

Dying beautifully
with the exception
my blood, pumping
painfully in my veins,
distressed by the
slowing of my heart,
behind the opal wall
of my ribs. Beneath
my flesh lies the stir
of phantoms, a fury
of the ghosts, with
each deifying cell
scattered, shattered,
on the suface of each
nerve, in the marrow
of each bone. Rolling
numbly through the
grass, greenness easing
the blue of the sky,
canibus is busy in my veins,
sweetly rolled in my fingers,
catatonic and quickly moving,
in my veins.





Paris Lovecraft.

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