Besotted bones blanketed by a burning semblance of abandonment;
Barren bodies, buried in bankruptcy. Blood birthing blurry abhorrence,
Blatantly boring bowels with trembling butterflies; brittle, gun-shy bullets.
Beastly bugs scrambling between blackness, buzzing behind blind eyeballs.
Bend my vertebrae, bowed like a blossoming babe. Bound embryo
Breathing- bawling, cries reverberating invisibly in the womb.
Abort my breath in its bland, bottomless tomb.
-SLuR
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Cool! Sort of stream of b consciousness. Sometimes in this type of prose, a sentence is a poem. That’s the case here.
a poem of consonant clusters..cute The breath is the cave of the soul Go there often You will find God