Mercer's Poems
She

Each day approaches.

Creeping
           Like
                 A
                   Murderer.
Vicious throttling in its eyes.
Etherised. 

The atmosphere…
…there is none. 

Gasping 

For 

Air.

Reaching for it desperately, clutching
With bony hands and snatching it to my
Gaping, flaccid jaw.

 The morning
A camera’s flash.

Each day as stagnate as the last.
A figure sat.
                  A paperweight.
    Pale, milky white limbs
Elegance incarnate.
          Eyes aflame.
                  Transfixed on mine.
Lips plump.                Parted
                       Inviting
But used only to draw poison to.
A spent scratchcard.
A wasted opportunity.
A heart blackened.
A soul absent.
Cold, hard, prison bed. 

And
So.
To last.
Eyelids;
Waves lapping
                  Shores.
Fears.

Every day another gift;                       every hour another worry
Every minute another panic;               every second another burden.

Until…