Prose Tuberculous

My life is nothing but
A temporary solution of death
And the air from which I breathe
Is the delayed poison
Of my bitter doom.

My life is,
A moving corpse
Seeking the tomb of safety
And the safety my soul commands
Is a coffin made of rust.

My life is,
An unmusical verse
More lifeless than
This poem of lifelessness.

My life... dear undreader,
My perfect unreader,
Is a word you unread
And a line you unwrite.

( C ) Copyright 2010 ADEL ATTIYEH