Not a Feeling Anymore

A wraith, a ghost, a spirit, an imprint–A specter, a vision, a monster, a hand print–
The Numb found skin to latch itself to, It crawled from the oil, the tar below.
Gusts gut, gashed and ground, while bright went blank and allowed no bends
To gather.

The Numb found bits and pieces to pick, a killer, a grabber, a reacher,
A malevolent lion of lies, gathered from years of fire, It clawed, crept, trounced,
To find–The red below the Numb.

A witch, a vagrant, a sad, lonely spear, The Numb found solace before–
A mob stripped her of humanity, left nothing but a spore.

The Numb found bits and pieces, she ripped, raged, and gored,
Called to every open hand–
The black, the blue, the crimson, the cerulean–
The Numb nothing below–

The Numb takes all–
She stripes you
Devours you
Finds you
And
When it starts to come back,
The Numb finds you
Again–

And she slowly,
Surely,
Takes your breath away.

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