Asleep (In the Husk of Our Dying Mother)

Overexposed Under a blinding afternoon sky I feel the sands recede beneath my feet The coming of the nuclear tide The air, devoid of any sustenance for my lungs The sounds of laughter cave my chest in, like the beating of a war-drum Nauseating whirlwind of smiling faces They assure me, everything is as it should be But I can feel the earth dying in my arms I feel the weight of extinction I am bloodied and skinned, stripped of my ignorance Nauseating My stomach turns, my bile escaping I have learned the language for which to speak of my incarceration No respite. No exit. Awaiting A humane end to my suffering