The mucus membranes are splitting,
sucking as they pull away from the surface.
Smoke hanging in the air,
rolling in the tombs of those waiting to die.
With headstones reserving the plot
and standing tall,
The splintered bones are crackling in the fire.
A tongue can smell
as the nose tastes blood seeping
slowly from pulsing wounds.
The shadows are dancing,
weaving like fools
against the peeled paper of walls.