Resuscitated

This knotty briarwood box under my splintering ribcage Top hinges flaking speckled iron oxide rust Candy green apple worms gnawing tunnels through the surface Recklessly balanced atop my rickety howling mortality Bare of all arteries and veins and pillowy flesh, all blood evaporated Clinging to miserable existence out of sheer habit A skeleton of an organ inside a skeleton of a human And then A curious sensation in the tips of my ghost fingers as I realize they are tangible, actual Not invisible, not imaginary, not detached And feel the pins and needles As foreign liquids inside my dessicated veins break the floodgates And travel into my extremities, Pump plasma into peculiar partitions. You breathe life into my tired soul.