R.I.P. Chris

Liquefying flooring
Engulf unfeeling feet; monotonous
Voice driven in
Unmoving heads, impaling
The eardrum without rest, stirring
Our essence without motion
Muted ache spreads
From throat to throat
Infectious in this soundless
Clinic that was said to be
Sterilized
Relentless virus, already stiffening
Our veins; our muscles
Already death-like

Blackening sun rising
To the larynx, pushing
The ill-shredded tatters
Of the soul higher
Towards the eyes
Expelling them
In liquid form
Masking the vision
Blackened sun shining
Tarnished golden ring surrounding
An empty circle, a dark void
Let us eclipse