Living Dead

My mind is dead
Just as my heart is gone
It’s strange that I, so spectral,
Carry on.
A jagged cage of ribs
Curved over hollow shade
Lurching bones making as though
I am of flesh still made
It should be numb,
To wander dead of brain,
Yet still I feel the cracking bones
And pain
Of all the splintered space
Where once there dwelt a heart
I can still feel the weeping wound
Where I was torn apart

– s. Clark