Emote me up

White

His special blend of virus
Attacks the main frame
A virtuoso at his game
His instruments vinegar, salt,
Lemon drops into an open eye

Don’t ask
Pin the labels on the
Donkey instead

The corridor is full of chalk outlines
Of those kept waiting
When the waiting room is full
Over flowing with coughing
Wretched bodies
The life sucked out of their veins
And like bird bones
Bleached
Sitting in glass jars
The mummification of lost souls
Suspended, till their bingo number
Comes up
Flashing bright
In a cold Harbour night.

by BiographyofRed8