Pea-Green

My skin is pea-green,

And cyanide laced.

Zombified flesh,

And a dead sense of taste.

The bump in my nose,

The cold nipped in waist,

The blackberry pupils,

The pale-yellow face.

The swampy green stare,

Behind bone white hair.

Sunken black eyes,

And rotting grey thighs.

Drained by the leaches

Latched on my life,

It just won’t go away

The throbbing, the strife.

Fingers like clockwork,

My skull filled with black dirt.

The worms have a ball

In that warped empty hall,

For the tunnels they dig

Shoot pain through my jig.

Get out of bed?

Now I’d rather be dead

For those worms if I move,

Will smash rocks on my head.

The belly that grumbles,

The temple that aches,

That one bunged out knee,

That gives me a gait.

Though I try to move forward,

It is hard to keep pace,

With those who are built

To win this long race.

From bye-gone days,

There is a small child,

Sunny and vibrant,

Concocting wiles.

The olive red glow and

Eyes bright as snow.

Long russet hair,

Tangled and snared

On small, pointed ears,

Gilded by sun.

Who would have thought,

He and I are one?

That boy from my past,

Now faded and slim,

Decomposing and haggard,

Joints made of tin,

Lives still inside

My restless grey shell,

Pea-green and lively,

Immune to our hell.

His roots twine round mine

And bring me back to,

The bright carrot sun,

To Escape from the blue

It could be resilience,

It could be delusion,

It could be stubbornness,

Or disillusion.

But, Despite all my hardship,

Despite all my pain,

I sit here alive,

Pea-green and sane.