Sign up to EliteSkills

Bad habits smolder
in a voiceless container
the gelatinous remains
of a sheep strung to water
everything that was
consists now
of something shaped by the former
an adolescent suppressor

A mold held in retrospect
a shape that shifts
into complete order
the past looked bright for him
voicing restraint
pairing with dignity
but a classless disorder
would break his ties with reality

Carefree
and buried beneath
his soul was flying
though digging
was the actual term
he sought to reach further down
where roots begin
to discourage one another

But lies carry the same familiarity underground
as they do above the sound of the worms
getting their fill beneath
the lid of this silent container
this training post for all the last embers
all the final few words spoken
but never in a whisper
because they must be heard in order to suffer

Desperate words chosen
to decompose
what little remained of the future
the slight touch of a tender slime
encompassing the whole
of these cold dark barriers
I touch what my breath will not swallow
and eat what my stomach cannot digest