“And if my colours all run dry…”
I’m being followed by a plague doctor
plague doctor plague doctor
Fœtid breath of death
Slip of leather soles over stone
I hear him creeping closer.
Behind his beaky mask
lurk no colours. His eyes as dry
as his clawed fingers, curled
into talons rend & tear rend & tear
leathery and skeletal.
I’m being followed by a plague doctor
plague dreaming plague dreaming
all his teeth north and south
rend & tear rend & tear
caught between them, my skin
burns & withers
my lungs fill with fire
I can’t breathe
I’m being followed by a plague doctor
plague coming plague coming
And if I ever lose my heart
if the plague tears it apart
it will not break. It will not.
Tea and Breath 