He comes

Dribble, From my sockets. Ringing from my ears. Babbling ever babbling Licking wounds with tears. Scolding my face for getting oh so hot. Contorting my body to feel what it’s not Emptiness-In the epithelial trail My legs and arms do hate me, they plan for me to fail here in a minute, Ready to compete And here I am With legs of ham refusal from my feet