cold turkey

on the abyss endless steppe 
i stood 
watching my soul evaporate 
as i breathe out 
trying to warm 
my cold cold hands 

galloping past 
a crow caws at me 
from the back
of a wild pale horse 
heading east 
towards the river styx

i continue west 
a pack of salivating wolves 
orbiting 
my cold turkey aura 

i am unconcerned 
the insulated hut 
was claustrophobic
better 
to be out in the wild 
free of feeling lost 
trying to act 
civilised 
or 
as some 
propagandist 
call 
religious 

anyways
i could still see the abyss
through the huts
blood stained 
macabre 
glass windows 
with the clawed tattered
thermal
hell fire red
curtains 

i could still feel the abyss
sighing 
through the floor cracks 
whistling 
through the keyhole
waiting 
for the frozen tundra 
to melt 
within the 
crematorium 
before 
the abyss 
freezes over again 
my crushed 
ashes 
absorbed 
into the frozen tundra 

better 
to ignore the gods 
numbered 
pebbles 
to walk the endless abyss 
to allow
the soul to evaporate  
far
far beyond the reach 
of the 
doctors 
the 
priest 
and the 
spiritual nets 
that'll
take your gold teeth
to cradle you 
in highly perishable
myths 

i continue to walk 
beyond 
the river styx
only 
breathing out 
only  
breathing out 
so as not 
to 
inhale the gas  
to choke
within 
the gods 
bricked retort 

© by bg 2021

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