I am the sleeping dead
imprisoned in the raw limbo of purgatory
I am the dry whisper close to your ear
in the silk intimacy of night
I am haphazardly drifting
throughout my fragile shell
passing Humanity at the drop
of a sinful thought
obliviously unaware to my exhales
of unwelcomed ironic air
atrocious angles of bones barely perceived
when feathered against Gucchi purses
and Armani leather clad shoulders
I am a Withering Epiphany
resurrected for the sake of
my own convoluted perceptions
