Exsanguination Asleep the air is constantly a concoction of a mirrored deluge And a splatter of rain on the red bricks, and the intriguing concussion of love bubbles oozing sacrosanct a traumatic slumber and asleep to the whispered chaos of yesterday, and all the wordless oceans are the exsanguination of the copious melodies of unfounded years pulsating in my femur, I am asleep, and this bubbling bruising Tiredness is fermenting inside of the abdomen, a chestnut tree is on fire and, I see what could’ve been, I don’t want to awaken and this cascading image is more pliable than human relationships more pliable than the being of love more pliable than my own sinew and sleep, I shall be a complexity drifting upon the nakedness of river blue tulips that arouse no suspicion, for I am animated by nonsense, I am, animated by own lethargy my own possible death, a sonnet not. New Poem by Jeremy Limn: Hydrocortisone
Bio: Jeremy Limn is a 28-year-old poet who has published three books of poetry, Raining Poems, The Auguries of Lost Lilacs, and The Roses Forget You, his work also appeared in the 2016 July Issue of Infernal Ink Magazine, and the Yearbook for the University of Tasmania 2015, and published twice with Vext Magazine, The Ernest Becker Foundation.
Fevers of the Mind 