Dayglo
Gothic poetry: the rainbow, evaporating.
Eyes
wet with violet smoke
press against cerulean
fingers searing
dayglo
like water
into our skin. Skeletons
sink into red rivers
eroding our bodies. Drowning
us in ash.
Fire splatters
the surface overhead—
fearful of what remains
alive—
Fire boils.
Orange steam rises
and carries heaviness—
desire spilling
yellow smoke
into our mouths—a mural
of ashen colors pressing
into us.
It reeks of flesh melting,
merging—comorbid
colors pooling
into a single body—alight
like lava.
We overflow.
Our rays flooding into fire
like rain,
cradling our burnt, ruined
bones—
a reminder that we endured
so we could arrive
alive. We emerge
alone,
drenched in colors, crying—
cerulean fingers pressed against
our wet, neon
eyes.
About the Creator
Corvus
A writer and lover of poetry, fiction, and more. Always open to polite, constructive criticism and general advice.
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