maybe i'm yellow and the blue is just imagined. he has his super
heroes and i'm okay with what remains of fading fairy tales. perhaps i
pressed too deeply on the fold. and the paper had no choice but to
remember. the flame that lures the insects to their suicide.
the
simple art of choosing. if it hurts enough. whether the shame still
fits. stiff corspes and pliant worshippers of these tangled puppets.
maybe the stage is choice enough. the corrosive wagers of solitude. raising their voice. for the dead to hear.
lost breadcrumbs.and candy houses. boast the shadows. the empty syringe. the folding muscles. the surrendering skin.
a
simple lever. fritcion easily solves her. a decimal place. the math of
moments. cradles the hours in its fists. the punch. the frivolous guile
of absent gods. burdens us all.
this vacant freedom whispers treason.
Friday
7/26/2013 12:10:00 AM
Sad Labels:
loneliness
,
nefarious
,
particles
,
puzzles
| Life Poems |