Vines Of A Bauble

Obtuse wounds that rub
& poison ivy that climbes
The chambers of my throat
Planted by nails that slice
Running across odds with a faceless dice

Words would shatter upon spoken
To be swallowed again
& lips sown shut by the vines that poison the very life
Vines that blister the tongue of those who speak its name

Its vipers run like veins
Over my naked body, where I'm strung
Still bodies lay present and close, and all around Golgotha

In Golgotha the people lay dead
But they're not-
Their eyes are just closed.