I am a blank canvas
A perfect shell of Erebus
corrupted with
smeared shades of turpentine
blunt molded holes
erupted into sharp cloths
I am what you see
when you are lapsed between
the earth and Hades
carefully captivated
yet dulled around the edges
A caricature
of melded pieces
drudged up memories
they do not remember me
they only know of the pain I hold
There are
soot colored patches
that mar your larynx
every time you near me
But you wouldn’t know
you couldn’t even fathom
that this stench kills me
more than it hurts you
Éloa 
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